


Play It Again

by cheshirecatsmile



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Eleanor is a receptionist, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Harry is an ice cream parlour worker, Liam is a technician at Radio 1, Louis is a radio presenter with the BBC, M/M, Niall is Niall, Nick and Louis banter, Perrie is a sweetheart, Some angst, Zayn is an attractive TA, and fluff, and the usual smut tags, lots of fluff, stupid boys in love, there's internships too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatsmile/pseuds/cheshirecatsmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In which Louis is one of the morning presenters on BBC Radio 1 and Harry is the endearing ice cream parlour employee that drags himself up out of bed at 6 o'clock every morning to listen to the gorgeous, witty radio presenter's sleepy voice. Love, weddings and unprecedented radio internships ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> so this fic is my baby, and i hope it's okay. 
> 
> for those who don't know anything about the BBC and Radio 1, it's a famous British radio station. Some details have been changed for the sake of the story. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Direction or BBC Radio 1 or any of their affiliates. This work is intended purely as fictional entertainment. 
> 
> I hope to update often and I hope you like it! 
> 
> I aim for this fic to be just under 100k and around 15 chapters + epilogue. 
> 
> [Title taken from Play It Again by Luke Bryan]

I.

[Louis]

 

Louis is having a horrible morning.

Then again, any morning which requires one to get out of bed at five o'clock and be expected to turn up to work fully functional can't be pleasant.

This is Louis’ life.

Louis holds onto the warmth in his duvet for as long as he can before his alarm — snoozed five minutes earlier — blares out again, interrupting the peaceful silence. Louis whines loudly, nuzzling into his pillow and counting to five, then ten, before bracing himself and throwing his legs out of bed. He shivers at the cold that hits his bare skin but he won't turn on the heating because really, being a radio presenter doesn't pay as much as one would assume. I mean, he's _comfortable_ but he knows he'd just forget to turn off the heating and mosey on out for five hours and he can't afford that.

Don't take it the wrong way, Louis absolutely loves his job. It's what he was born for. Being a BBC Radio 1 presenter suits his witty, sharp personality well and he hasn't got the worst music taste of the lot. Of course, the hipsters have something to say about his affinity for Katy Perry, but. Plus, he has nearly half a million twitter followers, so people _like_ him. It's just the 6-9:30 shift doesn't suit him or his love of sleeping very well. 

He showers the smell of morning off his skin and lathers apple shampoo in his hair. As he turns off the water, he hears his phone ringing from the bedroom. He lets it ring out, getting out and trying to towel himself dry but it rings again. Louis sighs and hobbles into the bedroom with wet everything. He answers the phone with slippery hands.

“Yeah?”

“Can you pick up bagels?”

Louis snorts, even though this is a routine that unfolds every day. Nick gets them coffee, Louis gets breakfast. “Piss off, Grimshaw.”

“I got you coffee. And I've got Eleanor keeping it warm.”

“You probably spat in it as well.”

“If I did, you'll never know.” Nick sounds far too chipper than any human should be this early in the morning. Not for the first time, he thanks God that Nick has the shift earlier than him. He doesn't think he could deal with getting up at half three in the morning.

“I didn't ask you to get me coffee,” Louis points out and decides not to mention that he's naked. Nick, being Nick, would secretly appreciate the mental image, but would be liable to hang up there and then.

“But I did, because I'm the best friend you ever had. Also the barista offered me a free coffee. Also, there's no cream or caramel, like you like. But semantics.”

“You're not my best friend,” is what Louis chooses to take out of the babble.

“Yeah, you got that gorgeous model dude for a best mate, ay? Don't need old flabby hipsters like me.” Louis can practically see Nick pouting.

“Zayn's not a model, just an overly-attractive TA.”

“What wouldn't I give to be those students,” Nick sighs wistfully. Louis rolls his eyes. Doesn't he feel like a 2 next to Zayn's 11.5 on the physical attractiveness scale. 

“Zayn is straight,” Louis reminds him, using his free hand to pull on boxers and jeans. It's a struggle, but he manages. “Also engaged. You've met Perrie—ow! Tink!”

Louis’ tabby cat Tinker Bell scratches down his leg with sharp claws, clearly in search of food. With one hand, he picks her up and dumps her back in her basket.

“Multiple times. You brought her on our last pub crawl.”

“Well, she's my best girlfriend. And she outdrank every single one of your hipster friends.”

Nick snorts, then goes is silent for a second, and his next sentence leads Louis to believe he was checking the clock. “It's nearly half five! Hurry up, you sod. I'm on air again soon and I need my Nutella bagel.”

“Hope you enjoy disappointment!” Louis manages to yell down the line before Nick hangs up.

He pulls his jumper on over his head, checks the mirror to make sure his hair doesn't help him resemble Sasquatch and ambles into the kitchen to grab a granola bar and a cuppa. He's in no rush, after all. His shift doesn't start for another thirty five minutes. This is exactly why he chose his flat to be in close vicinity with the studio.

After he's had breakfast, he feeds Tinker Bell and leaves out water for her. He checks his twitter and he calls Zayn and hangs up as he answers just to wake him up and annoy him. He's still cackling to himself as he clambers into his car and drives to the studio.

Louis turns on BBC Radio 1 and hears Nick laugh loudly at a tweet, sounding far cheerier than Louis feels. “Now, before I play this lovely new One Republic hit, I'd like to say hello to Louis Tomlinson, who should be on his way, and tell him very kindly that should he not take a detour and obtain a bagel for his very hungry colleague, he will get decaf coffee every day for the next month. Cheers, Louis! Now, here is Love Runs Out.”

\---

Despite grumbling under his breath for the rest of the journey, he pulls over at the bakery and purchases two Nutella bagels. “All right, Grimmy,” He mutters, throwing the paper bag into the passenger seat. “Got your fucking bagel.”

He checks his phone for the time--quarter to six, shit--and there's two texts, one from Zayn ( _fuck u :(_ ) and another from Nick ( _Remember the Nutella!! Also signed you up to do the live lounge today. Got TSwift comin in today!_ , followed by a frog emoji, for reasons Louis will never know.)

By the time he pulls up at the studio, he's got less than seven minutes to his shift, but he usually starts late anyway. Eleanor is standing at the reception desk, dutifully sorting through emails. She greets him with a tired smile as he traipses in. “Hello,” She says. “Got your coffee. I made you a fresh cup in the kitchenette, because Grimmy either spat, pissed or ordered sour milk in it, so.” She hands him a warm cup of coffee in a giant mug with a teddy bear on it.

“You are a godsend.” Louis praises, kissing her cheek. Eleanor is essentially what keeps the presenters from going insane, the ever calm receptionist who is at the studio at four o'clock every morning to keep things level.

“You better go in,” she says, jerking her head towards the sound booth. “You've got your playlist, right?”

“What do you take me for?” Louis holds up a USB key. “Got it. Anyone in the sound booth?”

“Yeah, Fearne. Think she's got Aimee with her.”

Louis blanches. “She doesn't.”

“She was visiting Nick. I know you don't get along, but she's one of his best friends—”

“Aimee fucking Phillips,” Louis mutters, taking a long drag of his coffee. The two personalities, Louis and Aimee, they're too similar, and they clash.

He winks at Eleanor, takes a sip of the coffee and heads for his sound booth.

“Morning, Louis,” Fearne greets, and Aimee is nowhere in sight, praise the Lord. Louis raises his mug in acknowledgement.

“What're you doing here? Your shift isn't for another three hours.”

“Was called in early to sort something out.” She watches as Louis sets up his equipment, taking out his headphones and mic. He knows how to adjust all the AV shit, but he figures he better wait for Liam in case he accidentally messes something up.

Eleanor pops in with his weekly schedule as he chats to Fearne. He skims through it and sees his interview with Paloma Faith has been postponed.

“Hey, since you're here, fancy co-presenting with me from eight to eight thirty? Got a cancellation, I'd only be playing more songs anyway.”

Fearne shrugs. “Whatever suits, babe.”

Liam bustles through to start setting up Louis’ booth. The boy is one of the few who is always cheerful in the morning, who always has a smile on his face. The thought of such a human existing brightens Louis just that little bit more.

“Morning, Louis!” He chirps. “Hello again, Fearne.”

“Hi, Liam,” They chorus, moving away from where they're leaning again the panel to give him space.

“Got a good show lined up?” Liam inquires. “Please tell me you're playing the new Beyoncé song. It is the best thing to happen to this world.”

“Can do,” Louis says with a grin. “I'll just pop in to Grimmy before my shift starts.”

He wanders right and pokes his head into Nick's booth. He's on air, in the middle of wishing people happy birthdays and anniversaries so he doesn't notice Louis’ presence until he coughs.

“And a very happy 45th anniversary to Brendan and Charlotte--oh ‘ello, look who's popped in! Louis Tomlinson, good morning! You do know, there's a shower in the back if you want to wash that rank smell off you.”

Louis throws the bagel bag at him. It hits his nose, _ha._ “Hope you're grateful, Grimmy,” he says, loud enough for the mic to pick up. And then, quieter, “You owe me a blowjob, I reckon.”

“Anytime, Tommo,” Nick grins wickedly. Nick and Louis have fucked around a few times, messy handjobs and blowjobs, but it's strictly no strings attached. 

Louis flips him off and returns to his booth, where Liam has finished setting up and is sitting back to listen to the show. Eleanor is there to give him the three minute countdown. They all wait silently, hearing Nick finish up with a song and Louis slips his headphones on, straightening the mic to his mouth level--mouth level, heh--and then it's three, two, one and he's on air.

“G'morning, it's the Tommo!” He exclaims, pressing a cheesy sound button that lets out a feline miaow. Eleanor snorts. “I've finally freed you from Grimmy, now it's my lovely voice with you for the next three and a half hours. Let me tell you, the best three and a half hours of your day. I'll be here with Fearne Cotton, I'm joined by Cheryl Cole--whoops, _Fernandez-Versini_ \-- at 9, and I'll be answering your tweets as well, so don't forget to request your songs via the BBC Radio 1 twitter account, or my own personal, @Louis_Tomlinson. Okay, before you get too used to my voice, let's kick it off with Rita Ora and Iggy Azalea's Black Widow. Here we are.”

He plays the song, and kicks up his feet.

 

\---

[Harry]

Harry is not an annoying flatmate.

He doesn't leave dirty socks anywhere, he does the laundry without complaint when it's his turn, he understands boundaries and his music taste is extraordinarily good, so it's not like he's blasting Pitbull at all hours of the night. He's quite a good flatmate, he thinks.

But everyone has their habits that will get on their flatmate's nerves no matter how discrete they are about it, and Harry will concede that his most annoying habit is getting up at 6 o'clock.

His flatmate Niall is a light sleeper, so no matter how hard he tries to be quiet about showering and breakfasting, no matter how he makes a conscious effort to tip toe around the flat, no matter how low he turns the volume down to on the radio, he wakes Niall up.

See, the worst thing is, Harry doesn't have to get up this early. His work shift at the ice cream parlour doesn't start until noon, and he never tends to make morning arrangements. The only reason he has a six o'clock alarm is to listen to Louis Tomlinson.

It's pathetic, he knows. This routine didn't consciously happen. About a year ago, he woke up at quarter past six with a head cold and couldn't get back to sleep, so to kill time, he turned on BBC Radio 1, a station he didn’t normally rate due to their tendency to only play Top 40 hits. But the most gorgeous, soft voice floated through his speakers, laughing at jokes and cracking witty remarks and Harry spent the entire time grinning stupidly at his radio.

He'd followed him on Twitter immediately, and googled his Wikipedia page. ‘ _Louis William ‘the Tommo’ Tomlinson’_ it had said, ‘ _One of BBC Radio 1's top presenters, age 25. Closely associated with fellow presenters Nick Grimshaw and Fearne Cotton. Tomlinson came out as homosexual on 24 May 2012, and has been in one relationship since then. Due to his extensive charity work with LGBT organisations and various other charities, Tomlinson is Number 12 on the list of Most Influential Males in Britain.’_

It's possible Harry developed a little crush, just by listening to Louis day after day. It also helps that Louis is unbelievably good looking. And he's _gay._ Great things like this don't happen to Harry. 

Niall stumbles out of bed in his boxers, looking around blearily. Harry's just boiled the kettle, and that must have been what woke him up. The radio is turned down low, Nick Grimshaw's shift still not finished. Harry looks guiltily at his friend.

“Sorry, Nialler,” He apologises, “I was just making tea. You want any?”

“No, thanks, Haz. You listening to that Yorkshire bloke again?”

“Louis,” Harry supplies automatically. “He's on in three minutes.”

Niall rolls his eyes and turns back to his bedroom, muttering something about Harry needing to get laid with something other than a radio.

The kettle comes to a boil just as a song transitions into Louis’ loud voice. “G'morning, it's the Tommo!”

Harry spins around, delighted and turns up the volume. He grins stupidly as Louis' lovely voice leads the introduction into the first song.

He sits down at the kitchen island with a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea and waits for Louis to come back on again.

\---

His favourite hour is 8-9, because that's when Louis stops playing songs and talks. He answers tweets, talks about current events, makes jokes and sometimes brings in his fellow presenters to play games with or just chat with. Whenever Nick Grimshaw makes an appearance is always fun, because the two of them throw insult after insult, and Louis' are so creative and funny that Harry feels like he wouldn't mind being called a ‘saggy arseless old man in desperate need of a shag and some deodorant to mask your smell of the flush handle on a public toilet’ as long as it's in Louis’ voice.

This time, he's with Fearne Cotton. It's clear the two are fond of one another, throwing banter back and forward. Louis keeps calling her ‘babe’ and he feels irrationally jealous. He wants to be Louis’ babe, a feat which would be quite plausible if the presenter only knew of his existence.

Harry sighs and takes a grumpy spoon of cereal. He'll go out tonight, he thinks, maybe hook up with someone. Niall could be easily persuaded into joining him at a gay bar, also Ed. But first, he'll finish listening to Louis.

“Alrigh’ so I've got a tweet here that asks me if I'm in a relationship.” Harry's breath hitches. “Why do you want to know? Interested? Anyway, the answer is no, I'm afraid. I'm on the market to be some lucky dude's rollercoaster.” He chuckles and it sounds a bit self-deprecating. Or maybe that's just Harry. “Just kidding. Who'd want an old idiot like me?”

 _Me,_ Harry thinks desperately. _I want you._

Louis does his best to hastily change the subject, answering a stupid tweet about llamas and then playing a game of Quickfire with Fearne. At 9, Harry's lying on his back on the sofa, his arm flopping over the side and he's sleepy, pliant, listening as Louis interviews Cheryl. All too soon, his time is up and he introduces the next presenter before he leaves.

Harry sighs and gets up to turn off the radio. Niall is just shifting in bed, and Harry has two hours to kill before he has to start getting ready for work. He has the noon shift on Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays and the nine in the morning shift the rest of the time. Seconds later, his phone buzzes from the coffee table and it's a text from Gemma.

_assuming you heard tommo this morning._

Harry rolls his eyes and texts back, _of course i didn't, g. i have a life outside listening to gorgeous radio presenters with accents._

Gemma's reply is hugely obnoxious. _bet you wank off to his voice at night. bet you bring a tape of him into the bedroom so you're able to get it up while you hook up. oh wait, you don't hook up._

Harry raises his voice so that it projects to the bedroom. “Nialler! Will you come with me to the club tonight?”

Niall calls out a sleepy affirmative. Harry is pleased to be able to text back, _getting laid tonight actually, sans recording of louis. so screw you._

_tmi, little brother._

Harry throws his phone down on the sofa and decides to go on a jog. It'll be good for him; he'll take headphones, run down the stretch of grass in the park and he'll stop thinking about how easily he could get off to Louis’ voice. Yep.

 

\---

 

[Louis]

“Great show, Louis.”

Louis throws down his headphones carelessly and collapses back in his chair, running his hands through his messy hair. He's mainly alone when he's on the radio—due to something about getting easily distracted. He swivels around at the voice and shrieks--um, lets out a very manly grunt--at the sight.

“Lux!” He reaches down to grab her under the arms and lift her up so she's level with him. She giggles happily and he rubs his nose with hers. “Oh my _god,_ did you get cuter?”

“Thanks, it's the new hair dye, makes me look younger.” Lou slides in and sits down in the chair beside Louis. “'Ello.”

“She's so adorable!” Louis is practically bursting, as he cuddles the toddler close to his chest and buries his face in her blonde curls. “God. Can I keep her, Lou?”

“Sure,” She shrugs, tying her silvery hair into a bun. “Long as you don't mind changing nappies. That's a bitch.”

“Mummy uses bad bad language,” Louis tutted, tapping Lux's nose once. “Don't listen to Mummy, yeah?”

“Your fixation with my baby is not quite healthy.” She gets up and stretches. “Okay. I have to go to Make Up, cover up Fearne's spots. She's on live TV today. You'll look after Lux?”  
Lou was BBC Radio 1’s stylist for whenever the presenters had TV appearances or photoshoots. Louis had become quite fond of her and her toddler.

“Are you kidding? I wanna kidnap her. She's my cutie.”

Louis blows a raspberry on Lux's tummy so he can't see Lou's fond eye roll. Louis loves Lou’s daughter like his own limbs.

“Lou!” Lux says, clapping her hands. “Eee. Looey.”

“That's right, baby, I'm Louis,” He indulges, squeezing her cheek. “What's your name, sweet?”

“Lux!”

“Clever girl! Wh--oh hey, Liam.”

Liam shoots him a friendly smile and holds up his wallet. “Lou told me to ask you to take Lux to the ice cream parlour.”

“What, that one on the corner? What's it called — The Snow Castle or something?”

“Ice Palace, I think. Mind if I tag along?”

Louis shrugs, standing up with Lux balanced on his hip. “Be my guest. I could use some company my own age.”

They gather their things and head for the exit, passing a frazzled looking Eleanor at reception who looks at them with puppy eyes as she pleads for a strawberry cone.

Liam and Louis chat idly as they stroll to the ice cream parlour, the topics varying. Louis’ never really gotten to know Liam, he's always just been _there,_ a solid part of the radio crew. They learn more about each other on the fifteen minute walk to Ice Palace than they have in the last year of working together.

Louis finds out that Liam is a twenty-two year old university graduate in engineering, that he's got a girlfriend called Sophia, he likes his pancakes with maple syrup, he goes to the gym every Thursday and he's got a secret celebrity crush on JLaw.

“Pets?” Louis asks, because he's a big animal person and the type of pet one has says a lot about the person.

“Erm. I had two fish called Oxygen and Scaly but I overfed them. You?”

“Shame!” Louis tuts, deciding not to mention the plethora of dead fish blood on his hands. “And yes, I have a cat. Tinker Bell.”

Lux is toddling along beside Louis, holding his hand and giggling at graffiti and a dog pissing on a signpost. “Tink!” She squeals, at the mention of her feline friend. “Loo-eee, can I go say hi to Tink one day?”

He chuckles and ruffles her hair. “Anytime, Luxy, you just say the word.”

They enter the ice cream shop, a burst of warm air hitting them as soon as they step over the threshold. It's not busy, only one other customer there. ‘Anything, Anything’ by Dramarama is playing gently over the speaker and Louis smiles fondly.

“God, I love this song. I should play it more often.” He hums quietly along, _“I'll even let you watch the shows you wanna see, if you marry me, marry me, marry meeeeee...”_ Towards the end, he swerves spectacularly off tune and Lux giggles.

The server behind the counter whips around, looking like a deer caught in the headlights and...Holy Christ, he is gorgeous. All windswept curls and tattoos and skinny legs that go for miles-- _Jesus._

The only other person in the parlour is a blonde, who's got his feet propped up on the table closest to the counter. He's flipping aimlessly through a sports magazine. Blondie cranes around to catch a glimpse of who exactly the server is gaping at, and then he whistles.

“S'your lucky day, H!”

The server goes bright red. Louis thinks that just adds to his cuteness. “Hey,” Louis says.

“Um,” Fit Server Boy replies intelligently. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“What do you want, Luxy?” He moves her closer to the ice cream display case and she points at the strawberry tub, her grubby fingers smearing the glass.

“Good choice,” Fit Server Boy praises, digging a scoop into the plush ice cream. When he glances back up at the trio, he looks sheepish. A light blush still gracing his cheeks, he grins. _Dimples._ Louis is so dead. “I'm Harry,” he says and gestures to his name tag.

“Like the Prince,” Liam chimes in helpfully.

“And Potter,” Louis agrees. He meets Harry's eyes. “Bet that's not the first time you've gotten that.”

“For your sake, I'll pretend it is,” Harry says, dumping the scoop into a cone and adding an ungodly amount of rainbow sprinkles. Lux takes the cone eagerly, and starts licking away.

“I'm Louis,” Louis says, reaching out over the counter to shake Harry's hand.

“I know,” He replies, then blushes. “I listen to your show.”  
Louis smiles. The blonde boy snorts, but doesn't look up from his magazine. Harry shoots him daggers before turning back to Louis with a smile.

“Anyway. What brings a hot shot radio presenter like you to this humble abode?”

Louis pats Lux's head. “My stylist put me on babysitting duty and the best way to keep a toddler quiet is a good old fashioned ice cream cone.”

“Well. We have the best.” Harry quirks an eyebrow. “But surely you don't need a make up artist. You're quite stunning already.”

Louis smirks. “You like what you see, Curly, or are you just a natural flirt?”

“Bit of both, I guess.”

Blondie finally throws down his magazine and focuses on Louis, speaking up. “Well if it isn't the infamous Louis Tomlinson.”

“Infamous?”

“Well, Harry here never shuts up about—”

“Your playlists!” Harry blurts, and Louis raises an eyebrow. “You play great music, mate.”

“Cheers.” He eyes the blonde warily. “I think introductions are in order, Curly.”

“I'm Niall,” The blonde pipes up before Harry can even open his mouth. “Harry's mate and a Derby supporter. Who's your team?”

“I'm a Leeds U fan meself,” Louis admits. Niall narrows his eyes at him jokingly.

“Thought you were meant to have taste, man.”

Louis laughs and claps his shoulder. He likes Niall already. And as for Harry, well. He was endeared the moment he walked into the shop.

Lux tugs his sleeve. Louis looks down. “Apologies, babe. Harry and Niall, this is Liam, one of our technicians at Radio 1 and this is Lux.”

Harry coos over the child. Louis tries not to coo over Harry.

“I'd best go,” Liam says, glancing at the clock on his phone. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Right,” Louis replies absent-mindedly, even though he could spend all day chatting. “Thank you. Goodbye, Curly. Goodbye, Niall the Derby supporter.”

“I'll you again?” Harry asks urgently as Louis approaches the door. He smiles stupidly without turning around, his hand frozen on the door handle.

“Guarantee it.”

 

\----

 

“Zayn, he was so fit.” Louis whines and throws himself across Zayn's lap.

“Would you ever shut up about Fit Ice Cream Boy? You've talked of nothing since I came around this afternoon. Did you even get a name?” Louis snuggles into Zayn's side and takes a bit of his slice of pizza.

“Harry. I don't know his second name. He says he listens to my show.”

“Then he has shit music taste.” Louis pinches him indignantly.

“Hey. I play great music.”

After a few seconds of silently continuing to watch Friends, Louis spots an abnormally tall extra sidle into the background of the scene. His thoughts jolt back to Harry.

“I wanna bone him, Zayn,” He whines feebly.

Zayn looks startled. “What? Chandler?”

“Not bloody Chandler, Z,” Louis grumbles, shooting him a look.

“Oh. Fit Ice Cream Boy. Why don't you, then?”

“I don't even know if he's gay. He's probably got a fucking girlfriend. A guy that fit wouldn't be single.”

“You never know. You’re single.”  
“Aw, Z.” Louis pats his cheek. “One could never tell you’re straight.”  
“Bi.”  
“My bad. Your sexuality changes like Perrie’s hair.”

After Louis has sufficiently tired out the subject, he takes pity on an exhausted Zayn and changes the topic. “So. How is Perrie, then? I miss her.”

Louis had known Perrie since university. Their dorms had been on the same floor. She was working for a degree in Textiles. It was her who had suggested he go for a gig on the university's radio station. He had, and it got him to where he is now. It was through Louis that Perrie and Zayn had met. He sees his favourite girlfriend a lot less than he used to, now that the couple was engaged.

His friend's entire body softens. “She's great. She's all hyped up with wedding plans. She's dying her hair especially.”

“What colour?” This was hardly news. Perrie dyed her hair an eccentric colour every other day.

“Back to platinum white, to match the theme of wedding. I liked her blonde, but she's gorgeous either way.”

Perrie went platinum white a few years ago. Louis secretly liked it best. She'd got it done when she and him were out clubbing. She'd been intoxicated at the time, but of all the drunk decisions, it hadn't been the worst.

“She's got all her bridesmaids sorted,” Zayn continues, “And she's sending out invitations soon. Which reminds me--do you wanna be my best man?”

Louis sits up straight. “Serious?”

“Completely.”

Louis is touched. He punches Zayn in the shoulder. “I'd be honoured, mate.”

Zayn smiles. “Good. You can bring Fit Ice Cream Boy as your date.”

Louis doesn't think that sounds too bad at all, really.

\---

 

[Harry]

Harry calls his colleague Fiona the next day and offers to cover her shift. It means an extra two hours of working unpaid but he doesn't want to miss Louis in case he came around again.

Louis Tomlinson is finally not just a distant (gorgeous) voice on the radio, he's _met_ him. They've exchanged words. He's a tangible form and Harry needs to talk to him more.

He'd gotten up at the usual ungodly hour to listen to Louis on the radio. He played _Anything, Anything,_ the song playing in the ice cream parlour when he’d walked in, which made Harry grin. He was in a great mood that morning, cooking scrambled eggs on buttery toast for himself and a full English breakfast for Niall.

While the sausages cooked, he got a text off Gemma. _how was your lay? no details plz_ which reminded him that he was meant to go to the club yesterday night.

He'll go tonight.

When Niall stumbles out of his cave, and sets eyes on the hot breakfast, he shrieks and leaps on Harry's back. “Best fucking roommate ever! 'S like rooming with Jamie Oliver!”

They eat and listen to the radio. Niall doesn't understand Harry's obses—fascination with Louis, but he does enjoy his playlists.

“All right, I'm gonna hand you over to Grimshaw who'll be with for the next three hours with hipster songs that you're guaranteed not to know! You lucky devils. It's been great. I'm the Tommo, this is Radio 1.”

Harry sighs wistfully and turned down the sound completely, no longer interested. Niall is silent for an impressively long time before he couldn't contain it anymore.

“So. Tommo, huh?”

Harry is happy to indulge. “He's so fit in real life, isn't he? Do you reckon he'll come back?”

“With the eyes he was giving you yesterday, I don't doubt it.” Niall waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“He wasn't checking me out,” Harry mutters. “Why would he?”

“Get his number.”

Harry chokes on his toast crust. “No!”

“Why the fuck not?” He demands.

“ _Because he's Louis Tomlinson!”_ Harry whisper shouts. “Duh!”

Niall groans, squirting ketchup onto his plate and then aiming the bottle at Harry. “Aw come on, you big pussy. The worst he can do is say no.”

“Exactly.”

“Or change his number. Or file a restraining order. But that's besides the point.” Niall looks at him pointedly. “Get the dude's number.”

“Yeah? Or what?” Harry challenges.

“Or I'm breaking out the steel toed boot. On your balls.”

Niall bought a pair of steel toed boots in Cologne one summer and Harry had already suffered the wrath of them to his shin. He was limping for days. He can only imagine the pain they were capable of inflicting on his balls.

“Fine, fine,” Harry complies reluctantly. “Only if you come clubbing with me tonight.”

“Sure. But if you don't ask for Louis' number, the only banging your dick is getting tonight is with my foot.”

Harry cringes. “Don't ever say that again. Images, mate.”

Niall sticks out his tongue.

\-----

He's into the last hour of his shift and still no Louis. Every time the bell over the door chimes, he looks up hopefully. But he's beginning to lose hope. Louis would only stop by again if he was interested in Harry. Which obviously he wasn't. 

The parlour had been relatively busy. He'd been scooping ice cream and uncapping Coke bottles all afternoon and so far hadn't had a chance to change the crappy music playing. Some showtec shit. It hurt Harry's ears.

As soon as he gets a chance, he changes the CD to an All American Rejects one and distantly hears some dude's sigh of relief. The only other employee here was Jade, a sweet Geordie girl that worked the till.

Harry hums idly to himself as he fumbles beneath the counter for a cloth to clean the glass display case. He's just about to emerge when he hears the bell jingle and a very recognisable voice rings out.

“I'll keep you my dirty little secret,” Louis sings along to the track, and Harry bashes his head on the counter in shock.

He stands up, rubbing his head as he gets an eyeful of an amused Louis.

“Hello, Curly!” Louis beams. “I was hoping you'd be working today.”

Harry flushes, pleased. “Well, here I am. What can I get for you?”

“Oh,” Louis seems thrown, “Ice cream. Right. Um, pistachio?”

Harry scoffs, “Terrible. You were doing so well.”

“Are you mocking my ice cream palette?”

“You're so mainstream. There's a bubblegum flavour and a custard flavour and a lime flavour and a snickerdoodle flavour—”

“All right,” Louis interrupts with a laugh. “You pick for me. Surprise me.”

He settles down into the seat nearest Harry, propping his feet up on another chair. The only other customer, an elderly man, got up, paid Jade and staggered out somewhat drunkenly.

Louis watches him curiously as Harry nervously hovers over the ice creams. What should he pick? What if Louis was allergic to something? What if he thought it was disgusting and never came back again? After much debate, he settles on his favourite and presents Louis with two scoops of cookie dough in a cone. He adds sprinkles and a chocolate flake.

“Heaven in a wafer. Trust me.”

Louis licks the ice cream broadly. Harry tries not to watch his tongue. Boner, boner, go away, come again another day. Louis sighs delightedly.

“This is insane, Harry. You have way better ice cream taste than I do.”

Harry smiles and shrugs. “You have way better music taste than I do.”

Louis frowns. “You have lovely music taste, I'm sure.”

“You'll just have to find out.” Harry can feel himself getting flirty.

“I guess I will,” Louis grins. He nods at the coffee machine behind Jade's head. “You do coffee? I could do with an injection of caffeine right about now.”

“Yeah,” Harry grabs a cardboard cup from the stack. “What do you want?”

“A cappuccino, please.”

“Decaf?”

“Perish the thought.”

“Cream or no cream?”

“Um, cream?”

“Would you like cinnamon with that?”

“No, thanks.”

“One or two shots of coffee?”

“Oh they make this so complicated!” Louis huffs. Harry finds it irrationally cute. “I just want a damn coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

Harry has always been shit at brewing, but he whips up his best attempt, slaps on a lid and sets it on the table in front of Louis.

Louis looks up at him. “Sit down, then.”

Harry smiles giddily and takes a seat.

 

\----

 

“You're kidding!” Harry chokes on his laughter, smacking the table. “No fucking way.”

“Yes, Harry. I really did wank in my parents' bed. And yes, Mum really did ask me to clean the jizz out of the sheets.”

Harry doubles over laughing. When he comes up, he grins cheekily at Louis. “Your mum sounds lovely.”

“She is,” Louis agrees, “She's always been so good to me. Even with six siblings, she never made me feel like I would be forgotten.”

“ _Six_ siblings?” Harry says in wonderment. “Christ.”

“Two recently born twins. I don't see them much, what with living in London. Though Lottie--the eldest--practically sends me a daily vlog via text. They can't poop without Lottie telling me about it.”

Harry snorts.

“Have you any siblings?”

“Just one. An older sister. Gemma.”

Louis grins cheekily. “Ah, so you're the baby. You must be spoilt.”

“Not really. Mum was like yours. Quite fair.”

“Speaking of that, before Lottie was born,” Louis launches into a story. Harry notices that whenever he does that, he gets a sparkly glint in his eye. He loves to tell stories. Loves to entertain. “I copped that my one on one relationship with my mummy was being threatened. I couldn't have that. So I hatched a plan, and when Lottie was born, I left her outside our door in a basket with a note that said ‘Please Take.’”

Harry doesn't know whether to be horrified or highly amused. He is glad Louis isn't looking at him to witness the horrible grimace that results. “You're terrible.”

“That I am,” Louis says, leaning forward. “Enough about me, Ice Cream Boy. Tell me about you. Do you have a photo of Gemma?”

Harry flubs around on his phone. “Just warning you now, she's quite pretty. But she's engaged, so don't get your hopes up.”

“No worries,” Louis says softly, “Got my eye on something else.”

\---

“I got his number!” Harry crows, barging into the flat to find Niall strumming his guitar idly while watching First Wives Club.

“Good on you, mate,” Niall tells him, setting his guitar down gently. “I knew he wouldn't say no.”

In fact, Harry remembers happily, Louis had flushed pink when he'd asked and eagerly punched his number into Harry's phone, a stupid wide smile on his face. He tells Niall this smugly.

“Josh is over,” Niall says, after he's patiently heard Harry out, “He's in the bathroom.”

As if on cue, the toilet flushes and Josh emerges. “Styles!” He shouts, lunging for Harry. “Yo, yo, yo!”

“Yo,” Harry replies, laughing, “What's up, man?”

“Nothing as exciting as you. I heard you've finally come face to face with the man of your dreams,” Josh smirks, folding his arms.

Harry grins at the mention of Louis and launches into how he'd procured his number. Josh isn't as willing as Niall. He holds his hand up.

“H, at the end of this story will I roll my eyes?”

“I did,” Niall puts in.

“Then let's save it.” He pinches Harry's cheek fondly. “So. His number, you say?”

“And he follows me on Twitter,” Harry says proudly.

“I'll send out the wedding invitations,” Niall deadpans, going over to the cupboard and retrieving a pack of crisps. Harry steals one in retribution for Niall's lack of enthusiasm.

“Have you texted him yet?” Josh wants to know.

“No. Should I? Or is that too eager?”

Both Niall and Josh mutter to the Lord about granting them patience.

“C'mon, H! Don't keep the man waiting.”

Niall tosses Harry his phone.

Harry texts Louis.

Louis texts back.

\----

“Harry, mate!” Niall emerges from his bedroom freshly showered, dressed nicely and doused in cologne. “Thought we were going clubbing!”

Harry hadn't stopped texting Louis since he'd got home from work. Scattered throughout the conversation were laughing and winking emojis and disturbingly enough, a few banana emojis. Louis was funny and full of innuendos and Harry got way flirtier than he realised. Texting Louis was fun. Almost as much fun as being with him in person.

Harry pouts down at his phone. “I don't know, Ni...”

Niall tugs him up off the sofa. “Nope. No way, mate. Just because you're sexting Louis Tomlinson does not mean you get to bail on me. I wanna get laid.”

“All right,” Harry says reluctantly, “I'll change. Just gimme a second.”

He sends a quick text to Louis. _Would you like to come clubbing with us?_

He throws the phone down and hurriedly runs to his room to change. He's nervous of Louis' response. Why would Louis want to go out with him? He probably has cool, exciting things to do with his fancy radio presenter friends.

On the off chance that Louis agrees, Harry decides to dress better than he normally would. He pulls on his skinniest jeans and his favourite Ramones shirt. His hair has the perfect bedhead look, so he doesn't tamper with it. He sprays cologne and laces up his boots, taking a speculative glance in the mirror before he returns to his phone, breath held.

He opens the message from Louis, biting his lip. _I'd love to. Address and time?_

Harry has to refrain from leaping excitedly into the air. “Niall!” He bellows. “Louis' coming clubbing with us!”

“Who?”

“Louis Tomlinson, you tit.”

“I don't fucking believe you.” Niall grabs his phone and reads the text, seemingly several times. He shoves his back into Harry's hands in disbelief. “Jesus. Told you he was smitten with you.”

Harry flushes. “He's probably just being polite.”

“He doesn't seem like the polite type.”

“That's not fair, he's lovely,” Harry says, a little too defensively for somebody he barely knows.

Niall snorts, something he’s been doing a lot recently. “Tell him we'll pick him up in a half hour.”

\---

Harry and Niall play best of three in Rock Paper Scissors. Niall wins, and as a result Harry is dubbed designated driver. Not drinking sucks, but at least he'll have Louis. He wonders what type of drunk Louis is. Harry hopes he's a flirty drunk.

Louis had texted him his address, after Harry had told him to be ready in half an hour. ( _Half an hour, Styles? Not giving me a lot of time to get dolled up for you, haha!_ )

Harry pulls up outside Louis' building. He's surprised to discover that he knows this apartment block. His friend Eleanor lives here, on the third floor. He's been to her place.

“Put on this,” He orders, pushing a Dramarama CD into Niall's hand. “He says he likes this band.”

He hops out, and rings the bell for Flat 5A. A staticky voice comes through the speaker, “Is this Harry?”

Harry smiles to himself. “No. I'm a salesman. I sell condoms. Need any?”

Louis laughs loudly. “How convenient. I'm in short supply. Come on in.”

He's buzzed up. He climbs the stairs, a nervous but excited feeling settling in his stomach. _He's going out with Louis._

Louis opens the door and he looks gorgeous. His hair is quiffed and he sports tight black jeans and a low cut white shirt with an explicit message scrawled across it. He's stunning, and Harry has to step off the Welcome mat for a minute to admire him properly.

“You look nice,” He offers feebly. _You look stunning. Gorgeous. Ethereal. Fucking hot._ Louis bows.

“Not too bad yourself, Mister. Come in for a second, I just need to grab a couple of things.”

Harry steps inside Louis' apartment, taking in his surroundings. He'd expected a swanky living space, with trophies and framed certificates and chandeliers. Harry sometimes forgets that Louis is only a B-list entertainer on Radio 1, not a proper celebrity. It's definitely a nicer apartment than Harry's, though.

“Do you have a roommate?” Harry asks.

“Nope. What with my early mornings, a roommate would soon grow to hate me. I used to room with Perrie, but she moved out to live with Zayn. Do you?”

“Yeah. You met him the other day at the ice cream parlour, where I work. Niall.”

Louis hums in recognition. “Niall the Derby man, yes.”

“I actually know someone who lives in this block. My friend, Eleanor.” Harry watches Louis grab his wallet and keys, slipping on a pair of shoes.

Louis sounds surprised when he answers. “Eleanor Calder? Pretty brunette?”

“That's her.”

“I know her. She's the receptionist at the Radio 1 studio. We're good mates.”

This is news to him. He hadn't known Eleanor knew Louis. If he had, he would have begged to get her to talk him up to Louis. “You ready, then?”

“Yeah, sorry. What club are we going to?” Louis locks up his door and they head downstairs.

“Niall's favourite. It's called Triangle. It's very straight, though, unfortunately.” Harry then realises he isn't really supposed to know that Louis is gay. “Oh sorry! I didn't mean to assume--”

Louis touches his arm. “Don't worry, love. I am. Into blokes.”

Harry flushes. _Love._ After a few seconds of silence, he says quietly. “Me too. Just so you know.”

Louis looks at him and smiles. “Thanks, love. For telling me.”

They climb into the car, where Niall is waiting. “Niall the Derby supporter!” Louis bellows in lieu of greeting. “Nice to see you, man.”

“You too,” Niall says, beaming.

Louis pauses, listening to the track playing. It's _Anything, Anything,_ and his face is lit up.

“This is one of my favourite songs!” Louis grins, happily. “Turn it up!”

Harry obliges, and Louis sings along with the whole album on the drive to the club. It makes Harry happy.

\--

Harry is sad.

No, sad isn't the word. Jealous. He has absolutely no right to be, however. He doesn't own Louis, he barely knows him.

But he feels envious when he sees Louis leaning over the counter at the bar, while the bartender flirts shamelessly and ogles Louis' arse.

Harry wishes he could fucking drink.

He's about to turn around to find someone to dance with, but then Louis makes a beeline for him. He's holding two shot glasses.

“Bartender gave me these for free. He listens to my show.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks. I can't, though, remember? I'm driving.”

Louis pouts. “All right. I'll take them for you.”

He knocks back both shots, one after the other, like a champ. Harry is impressed. He never could hold his liquor.

“Where's Blondie?”

Harry gestures over to where Niall is buying a pretty redhead her drink. He has one arm around her waist.

“Blondie has game. I'm impressed.”

“I'm sure you're not doing too badly with the blokes!” Harry shouts over the loud music, inclining his head towards where the bartender is staring at Louis.

Louis smirks. “Him? Dear God, no. He's not my type.”

Harry tries not to feel victorious. “What is your type then?”

The brunette cocks his head to the side. “Brown hair. Curls. Green eyes, maybe? Tall.”

Harry's breath hitches. Louis is flirting with him. He's done that before, but this time was _proper flirting._ Harry wishes he could find his tongue.

He's about to respond, when someone taps Louis on the arm and asks him to dance. It's a girl, but Louis decides to be polite and agree.

Harry watches him go, trying not to feel jealous. He knows the poor girl has no chance, Louis' _gay,_ but he wants to be the hands sliding up Louis' chest, the arms around his waist, his fingers carding through his hair and the body close to his. His whole head is full of Louis Louis Louis.

He goes up and orders a Fanta and thinks about not tipping the bartender out of spite, when he remembers it's not the guy's fault, he just finds Louis sexy. Which is hardly difficult to see why.

His drink is nearly knocked out of his hand when Louis comes up to him and flaps excitedly. “Look!” He practically shouts, pointing to where Niall has the girl up against the wall and is making out with her. “Harry, isn't that cute!”

“Very. How much have you had to drink?” He asks, amused.

“Not that much,” Louis replies, affronted, “I'm practically sober.”

The song switches, a dramatic transition from a peaceful, happy song to a rocky guitar opening. It's _Anything, Anything,_ by Dramarama and they both recognise it immediately. Louis' whole face lights up.

“I love this song!”

“I know you do. You sang along in the car,” Harry smiles.

“You heard me?” Louis flushes, embarrassed. He sips his appletini.

“I think Russia heard you, babe.” Harry hesitates, but Louis seems to like the pet name.

“It was also playing in the ice cream parlour, the day we met.”

Harry feels a warm fuzz and he knows it's not anything to do with alcohol because he hadn't consumed any. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do, love.”

Harry grins sheepishly. He likes when Louis uses endearments on him. “Love?”

A dark skinned, _stunning_ boy slides up next to Louis with a beer in his hand. He looks like he stepped out of a catalogue, and he's easily the most exquisite creature in the room. Harry looks at Louis. Maybe second most exquisite.

“Louis calls everybody ‘love’, don't feel special,” He jokes, winking at Harry.

Louis shrieks delightedly and throws his arms around the lad. “I didn't know you were going to be here!”

“Neither did I. Your mate Grimmy dragged me along.”

Harry watches awkwardly as the two converse. “What the fuck is Nick doing at a non-descript non-gay club?”

Zayn shrugs. “He says he wants to find a lad for one of his girlfriends, a rebound. Anyway, who cares? Introduce me to your friend, Tommo.”

Harry stands up immediately, and sets down his Fanta.

“Harry, this walking Armani ad is Zayn, my best mate. Zayn, this is the Harry I told you about.”

“Ah! Fit Ice Cream Boy! Louis' talked of nothing since.”

Louis elbows Zayn, hard. Harry fights a shit eating grin. “Oh, really?”

“Nick!” Louis hollers, stepping quickly between Zayn and Harry, shooting the former a death glare as he does so. “Get over here, man!”

Harry stares as Nick Grimshaw approaches them, swaggering up towards them with the sky high confidence Harry hears from his voice on the radio. “‘Ello, Tommo. Zayn. Who's fit friend is this?”

“Grimmy,” Zayn obliges happily. “This is our Louis' Fit Ice Cream Boy.”

Louis' cheeks flame and he turns away from them to down his drink. “You fucking bastards,” He mutters, glaring at them both. Nick's eyes light up.

“So _you're_ Harry. Dance with me?”

For some unknown reason, Harry glances at Louis, who has turned away from the group entirely and ordered another drink. “Okay,” Harry says and lets Nick lead him onto the floor.

They press together as the lovely music reaches a crescendo. They're playfully grinding, dancing together. Nick is chatting in his ear, his hands on his waist.

Over Nick's shoulder, Harry watches Louis. He has his legs draped over Zayn's lap and he's laughing. His head turns and their eyes meet.

Louis smirks and looks away.

\---

“Never let me drink again, Harry.” Louis says, his head on the table top. Harry coos and pats his hair.

“I'll get you some ice cream?” He offers, glad now that he was forced not to drink last night. When Louis showed up at the ice cream parlour this morning, before it had opened no less, he'd looked exhausted and disgruntled and hideously hungover but still, to Harry, gorgeous as ever.

“Me radio slot's just finished!” He'd exclaimed, “Knew you were on the early shift. Thought I'd pop by and see my favourite ice cream server.”

“I don't think my stomach has forgiven me, yet. Thanks though, love.”

Louis smushes his face back into the table. Harry goes to plug in the coffee machine and set out the ice cream cones. He's the only one on duty, and he's alone in the empty parlour with Louis. He's just flipping the ‘Closed’ sign to the other side when Louis raises his head.

“Wait a minute,” He interrupts, “I'm enjoying the peace. Can't you wait to open for a bit?”

“If my boss found out...”

“He won't! And besides, I hardly see a line of people queuing at the door.” He shoots Harry an innocent look. He smiles and walks back to Louis' table.

“You're a menace. If you get me fired, you can bloody well hire me at your station.” He's joking, of course, but Louis looks at him curiously.

“Is that something you want? Radio presenting?”

“I don't know what I want,” Harry says honestly.

"But I worked with the university radio station for a while. I was a presenter. It was fun."

“What did you study at uni?” Louis gulps down some water and a paracetamol.

“Sociology, English Lit and Law. And I hated every single one of them.” Louis laughs. “What did you study, Lou?”

“Drama. I've always wanted to be an actor.”

“What's stopping you?”

“I tried auditions a couple of years ago. Almost landed a minor role in a Tarantino movie a couple of years ago. One year after that I nearly voiced a fish in an animation. But it didn't work out. I've been a few extras, done some stupid Internet advertisements. Anyway. I took the hint. Kismet didn't seem to be smiling upon me.”

Harry pouts. “You're probably a great actor. You shouldn't give up.”

“Why? I've got a well paying job at BBC. I'm on a radio show that broadcasts to millions. I'm happy, I don't want to risk that.” Louis sets down his glass of water.

Harry senses him groping for a subject change, so he takes pity on him. “Are you hungry yet?”

“I think my stomach has settled a bit, yes. What you got for me, Styles?” He follows Harry to a small fridge beneath the counter. He takes out a cling film wrapped plate of salmon and mashed potatoes.

“I brought this for my lunch, instead of being unhealthy like I usually do and running down to the chipper. I can reheat it for you.” He glances at his watch. 9:15. The place should have opened fifteen minutes ago. “Not the traditional breakfast, but—”

“Thanks, no. I don't like fish.”

“I saw you eat fish fingers last night! And this morning on your show you mentioned battered cod!” Harry looks at his plate mournfully.

Louis pats his arm. “Both of those have protective fried coating, love. I'll only eat fish processed beyond recognition. Besides, fish stinks.”

“You uncultured swine,” Harry teases. “Anyway, even if it is a bit strong, I eat outside so as not to inflict the odour upon my colleagues.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” Louis grins. “Anyway, I'm meeting Perrie and Zayn soon. I'd best be on my way. When are you off work?”

“Couple hours, why?” _Ask me out. Come on, Louis._

“You should come over. You should meet Perrie. She's my best girlfriend.” Louis looks at him hopefully. Harry thinks he'd probably jump off a cliff if Louis said it with those eyes.

“I'd love to. Just text me when.”


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sleeps over at Louis' and wanks in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter, sorry I haven't updated in a while. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. I do not own One Direction or BBC Radio 1 or any of their affiliates. This work is intended purely as fictional entertainment.

II.  
[Louis]

 

“Louis, I brought breakfast for you! Louis? Louis--where are you going?”

Zayn bursts through the door just as Louis is about to open it to leave, his wallet in hand.

“Nowhere!” Louis rushes. “Um. Thanks for the croissants, but I have somewhere to be.”

“Where could you possibly be going at 10 AM? You never make plans before noon.” Zayn chucks the bag of pastries on the countertop.

“People change, Z!” Louis tries to shoulder past his friend, but Zayn is taller and blocks his way. “Now if you'll excuse me.”

“Oh my God!” Zayn says, realisation dawning on his face. “You’re going to see Fit Ice Cream Boy!”

“Harry,” Louis mumbles. “And so what if I am?”

“It’s cute, Lou,” He grins, pinching Louis’ cheeks. “You have a crush!”

“I do not.”

“You so do.”

“I don't!”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “Go on, then, Lover Boy. Go lick that ice cream cone.”

Louis flips Zayn the bird as he exits the flat, slamming the door behind him.

\---

“Louis!” Harry’s eyes light up as the door opens and Louis walks in. Louis’ tummy butterflies strike up and he ducks his head to hide a blush.

“Hey,” Louis says. “Was hoping to run into you.”

“Well, into me you ran,” Harry grins. “How can I help you?”

Louis plops down onto one of the chairs and kicks up his feet on another. “Cookie dough ice cream and a chat with you, please.” Louis wants to kiss the dimples that appear in Harry’s cheeks.

They chat about their favourite movies (Harry: Love Actually, Louis: Grease) and their favourite types of soup and where they went to high school.

The next day, Louis comes back. They talk about their families and when they lost their virginity.

Louis comes back the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that.

\----

[Harry]

“There's something different about your eyes, Harry,” Jade says to him, knocking his hip as he scoops a cone of vanilla. “You've been deliriously happy all day.”

“I'm concerned that you find this so out of character.” Harry doesn’t look at her as he arranges the money in the tills. “I’m a happy guy.”

“No, that's not what I meant. I think you've got a little crush.”

“Not true,” Harry says automatically. “You thrive on romantic gossip, Jade.”

“That's a filthy lie!” She exclaims, as she wipes down the counter. “Just tell me who it is! Is it that boy that's been coming in here nearly every day for two weeks?”

Harry buries his head under the counter in the search for clean glasses. There’s three sitting beside the coffee machine but he pretends he doesn’t see them. “I don't know what you're talking about,” He replies as nonchalantly as he can. Has Louis really been coming here for two weeks?

“Because he's fit. I approve, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry says without thinking, “I mean, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“It is him!” Jade crowed triumphantly. She's interrupted by a customer and deals with her before turning back to Harry. “His name is Louis, right?”

“Louis, yeah.”

As if on cue, the door burst open and a whirlwind flew in. “Harry!” Louis almost yells. “When's your shift over?”

Jade, ever the Devil's Advocate, beams. “Louis! How fortunate, we were just talking about you.”

Louis smirks at Harry and folds his arms. “Oh really?”

“Yes, Harry was just saying--”

“How I have to sweep the floor!” Harry cut in quickly, nudging Jade as he brushes past her. Louis reaches out to shake Jade's hand.

“We haven't properly met. I'm Louis.”

“Jade.”

“Lovely name for a lovely lady.” Which causes Jade to giggle and blush.

“Harry, he's charming!” She tells him delightedly.

Louis hops behind the counter and slings an arm over Harry's neck. In two weeks, he's learnt that Louis has a very tactile nature. He's hardly complaining, when he means he has Louis pressed tightly to his side.

“When do you get off?”

“Whenever I have sex, usually.”

Louis rolls his eyes and punches him in the stomach. “Come on. Tell me. I have plans.”

“Well, I get off at 5--”

Jade puts a hand on Harry's upper arm. “Go, Harry. I can hold the fort down for an hour.”

“I can't let you do that--”

“The place isn't exactly overrun. Just go, love. Have fun.” She winks at him and continues cleaning the glasses.

Harry takes off his apron. “Okay. Thanks, Jade. I owe you one.”

Louis waits for him outside. He's leaning against the wall with one leg crossed over the other, smoking a cigarette.

When he sees Harry coming, he blows the smoke over his shoulder and offers him a drag. Harry refuses, and Louis stamps the cig beneath his heel. “Let's go!”

“Where to?”

“I thought you'd like a tour around the station.”

Harry pauses mid-step. “The radio station?”

Louis turns around with his hands on his hips. “No, love. I thought we could do with a nice tour of King's Cross train station because I'll simply die if I don't see if right this very moment.”

Harry smacks his arse. “Little minx.”

He's excited, though. It's been at least a year of dutifully listening to Louis on the radio. Enduring some shitty songs just to hear the pretty Northern accent in transitions. He'd love to see where Louis works.

Louis leads them to his car. It's nothing flamboyant, just a sheer black Volvo.

“A car and a good job? Be still my heart!” Harry jokes, climbing into the passenger seat. The leather is soft and supple and he sighs blissfully as he relaxes into it.

“My God, are you having an orgasm, Harry?” Louis grins at him.

“My arse feels like it's sitting in a cloud!”

Harry asks to turn on the radio. He chooses Radio 1, out of habit. Louis snorts when Nick Grimshaw's voice floats obnoxiously through the speakers.

“Turd,” He grumbles.

“Thought you two were friends?”

“It's a complicated relationship.”

Nick plays some songs that Louis seems oblivious to, but Harry knows. When the feathery haired boy catches Harry humming along, he snorts. “Of course you know this song, you hipster.”

“'M not a hipster.”

“Bet you liked coffee before it was cool,” Louis says smugly, shooting him a sideways glance.

“Ha! Joke's on you, I don't even drink coffee,” Harry exclaims triumphantly and crosses his arms.

“You work at a café and you don't even like coffee?” He asks incredulously.

“It is not a café, it is an ice cream parlour. We only serve coffee because if didn't, we'd go out of business.”

“Oh, excuse me.” Louis is grinning at him. He's an erratic driver, and Harry feels increasingly unsafe as he swerves dangerously between lanes and takes corners entirely too fast.

“Jesus!” Harry yelps as Louis yams on the brakes. “How the fuck did you get a license?”

“My examiner listened to my show,” Louis grins and shrugs.

“Oh, that's reassuring.”

“Relax, H. I'm not going to kill you.” Just to make him nervous though. Louis accelerates. Harry's palms break out in a sweat.

They pull up outside the station a few minutes later. Harry's never been so glad to be out of a car. He staggers around dramatically, arms flailing. Louis looks unimpressed.

“Oh, quick, Louis, catch me! I'm going to faint!”

“You'll need CPR immediately,” The other boy declares, patting his cheek. “I'll be happy to oblige.”

Harry flushes pink, as is his usual response when Louis gets flirty. “I'm a willing recipient.”

Just then, a skinny brunette exits the BBC building. They hear her clacking heels on the asphalt before they see her.

“Eleanor,” Louis says, “Hi, darling.”

But she's not looking at him. “Harry!”

Harry smiles and goes in to embrace his friend. “Hi, Eleanor. How have you been?”

“I didn't know you knew Louis!” She reaches over and squeezes his arm in greeting.

“I didn't, until a couple of weeks ago.” Harry glances at Louis, who wraps his coat more tightly around himself.

“Oh. Well, I'm on a coffee break. Can I get you guys anything?”

“No, thanks, Eleanor,” Louis says before Harry can respond, “We won't be staying long.”

Louis knows everybody and their mother in this place. As they stroll past, Louis remarking on certain things, he receives at least ten greetings into two minutes.

“Tommo!” Nick Grimshaw waves him over from inside a cubicle. He takes off his headset and puts it down on his lap. “And Harry.”

“Aren't you meant to be doing a show?”

“I'm off air. Ads.” Nick cocks his head. “You showing Harry around?”

“Yeah, we're just off to my cubicle now.”

“No sex on the desks. Okay? Remember, the poor cleaners have to go in there after you.” Nick grins lazily at them. His producers knocks on the partition and gestures at the On Air sign. Nick slips the headset back on.

“Titmouse!” Louis yells, loudly enough for the mic to pick up. He slams the door after him, and Harry can hear Nick saying, “That, my friends, was the dulcet, elegant tones of the Tommo.”

“This is where I'm based,” Louis says grandly, waving Harry into a large cubicle. “On this side of the glass partition I am. On the other side I've got a producer who works all the technical shit.”

Harry takes in his surroundings. There's a large framed picture of Louis. Underneath is the caption _‘Radio Presenter, DJ. Louis ‘The Tommo’ Tomlinson’._ He's noticed similar photos of all the radio presenters scattered throughout the studio.

There are several tellings that this cubicle belongs to Louis. Harry observes an empty cup of tea sitting by the panel of equipment. There's a bad quality photo of Louis and his eldest sister taped to the partition. An open packet of Louis' favourite biscuits lie on the floor. A framed quote sits on the windowsill.

Harry throws himself down on the rotating chair and places headphones over his ears. He taps the microphone--which is off, of course--and says in a falsetto Australian accent, “G'day, mates! It's DJ Styles here with you for the next three hours. So get your shrimp on the barbie ready and chill with these fine tunes.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “That was terrible. And extremely offensive to all respectable Australians. You sounded like a frog with a cold.”

Harry takes off the headset. “That was fun.”

“Every guest I bring here feels the need to do that. I guess it's a rite of passage.”

“Bring a lot of boys here?” Harry grins.

“Just the cute ones. Come on, love. Let's go meet some of the crew.”

\---

Three hours after their tour of the station, Harry shows up at Louis' flat, as per request. They'd gotten into a heated argument about some character in V For Vendetta, and Louis had insisted Harry come over for dinner and to settle the dispute by watching the movie.

“I have it on Blu-Ray.” Louis said. As if Harry needed any persuading.

He steps onto the Welcome mat and knocks on the door. He doesn't expect the door to swing outwards towards him as it opens, yet it does, hitting him square in the face.

“Hey, babe!” Louis says cheerfully, while Harry has a brief stroke. He sees him clutching his nose like his life depends on it. “Y'alright?”

“I think you broke my nose!”

“Oh dear. Well, it'll make you look incredibly intimidating. Come in, I'll give you a bag of frozen peas to slap on your face.”

Louis drags him inside and disappears into the kitchen. Harry can hear him rummaging away in the freezer. He invites himself to sit down on the sofa. _16 and Pregnant_ is on the TV. Harry is so judging.

He glances around. He's been here twice before, and the same thing catches his eyes as did the previous times. A framed quote hanging on the wall beside a bunch of family photos.

_but the heart has its own memory & i have forgotten nothing. —Albert Camus. _

He wonders what it means, if anything. He resolves to ask Louis about it as soon as he returns with the icy applicant.

“So I don't have frozen peas, so you'll just have to make down with frozen meatballs. It was that or frozen chicken korma.” Louis offers him the bag. He peers at Harry's nose. “What were you doing standing so close to the door, anyway?”

“I didn't know it opened that way!”

Louis rolls his eyes fondly. Harry urges him to sit down beside him on the sofa. He points at the framed Camus quote. “What's the meaning behind this? You have it at the station, too.”

Louis sighs heavily, as if the mention of it burdens him. “That's another story, love. For another time.”

“Why do you keep the quote around if it makes you sad?” Harry hates the thought of Louis upset. It just isn't right.

“I just want to remember. I wouldn't forget, anyway.”

Harry's is so curious he could probably spontaneously combust, but the last thing he wants to do is make Louis uncomfortable. He points at the DVD on the coffee table.

“Let's watch the film, shall we?”

\---

[Louis]

About twenty minutes in, Louis remembers something. He gets up from his comfortable spot on the sofa. “I promised you dinner, remember?” is his answer to Harry's inquisitive look.

“Oh dear,” Harry says solemnly. Louis is outraged by his skepticism.

“What?”

“Zayn's told me stories involving you and the kitchen.”

“He's corrupted you!” Louis gripes, banging the pots and pans to make a point. “I can bloody cook.”

Harry follows him into the kitchen and hops up onto a stool by the island. “Still, it's best to keep emergency contact number at our disposal at all times.”

The nerve, really. If this boy weren't so goddamn hot...

“Particularly the fire brigade,” He continues. Louis grumbles and retrieves the chicken breast from the fridge.

“In fact, I'll just grab the fire blanket now. I hope you have a smoke alarm installed.”

“Are you done?” Louis pokes his thigh. “Ungrateful sod. I can cook, you'll see.”

“Yes. I hear you're extremely skilled in the toast department.”

Louis turns around and ribs his side playfully. “You cheeky menace. And I make a mean slice of toast.”

“Gordon Ramsay is positively shaking in his boots.”

Louis tackles Harry, lunging at him and knocking him to the floor. Harry shrieks and flails. Louis digs his fingers into his side and tickles the boy to death until he's kicking out and begging him to stop.

“That'll teach to you to make remarks about my cooking,” Louis says haughtily. “Now shoo, you're getting in the way of the delicate process.”

“The delicate process of stuffing chicken?”

“It requires a wizard's touch!” Louis grabs a USB key off the counter and presses it into Harry's palm. “You can go make my playlist for tomorrow's show if you'd like.”

Harry's eyes light up. “Can I really do that?”

“Sure.”

“Any song I like?”

“At least have a few Top 40 songs. We're a mainstream radio station.”

Harry seems in his element as he bounds out of the kitchen to boot up Louis' MacBook.

“Louis! What's your password?” Harry yells. Louis jumps and nearly lops his finger off with the knife he's using to cut mozzarella.

“Don't laugh--it's _blowjob07.”_

Harry's raucous laughter can be heard from the living room.

“At least nobody will guess it!” Louis shouts back haughtily. “What's your password, 1234?”

Louis chucks the chicken in the oven and sets the timer. He's still not entirely sure how to work all the buttons, but he figures as long as the chicken is getting some heat, it should be okay. Edible, at least.

Harry smiles at Louis. “I've almost finished compiling a playlist. I can't believe you're letting me do this. This is so cool!”

Louis can't help but smile at how cute and endearing the boy is. “It's only a playlist.”

“For the best DJ on Radio 1,” Harry exclaims. Louis blushes.

“You flatter me, H. You just want in my pants.”

It's Harry's turn to redden. He quickly changes the subject. “So, what have you cooked for me, O Mighty One?”

“Chicken breast, stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in Parma ham. With a side of classic mash.” Louis looks as proud as he feels. Harry laughs and punches his arm.

“I'm impressed. A dish worthy of Masterchef.” Harry's smile disappears, and Louis' face falls. His stomach twists anxiously.

“What is it?”

“I'm a vegetarian.”

Louis claps a hand over his mouth. “No you're not.”

Harry's laughter cuts into Louis' horror. “No, I'm not.”

Louis narrows his eyes and makes a dramatic scene of clutching his heart. “You're a dick, I'm sure you know that.”

He drags a chair over and straddles it. “Zayn's right about me, though. This is the only dish I can cook that goes off without a hitch.”

“I'm sure that's not true--”

“Harry, one time I tried to cook Christmas dinner. The turkey was so undercooked that a skilled vet could still have saved it.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “You should be at the Apollo.”

“Come on, now you're really flattering me. You must really want my dick.”

Harry smirks. “It's called flirting.”

Louis dismisses that comment lest his heart didn't burst out of its chest. He studies the playlist that Harry had racked up. He snorts when he realises he recognises a grand total of 8 out of 23 songs.

“This was a huge mistake.”

“Heeey,” Harry pouts.

“There's six 1975 songs--”

“ _The_ 1975!”

“Who the hell is The Cab?”

The oven timer rings, forcing Louis to get up and take his chicken out. He's not entirely sure that it's cooked, but he supposes time will tell. He lumps the mash on the side of the plate and carefully wraps the breast in Parma ham. There. A masterpiece, in Louis' opinion. He even used his best plates, the ones with no chips or scratches.

“Thank you,” Harry exclaims as Louis sets the plate down on the table in front of him. “Wow.”

Louis starts worrying. “What is it? Is the chicken underdone?”

Harry shoots him a reassuring smile and cuts into the chicken. “You could have ordered in a pizza and I'd have been happy just to spend time with you, Lou.”

“Well. You could have told me, before I went to all the trouble!”

They sit beside each other at the table, rather than across. Harry tucks into the meal eagerly. Louis watches him carefully, awaiting the verdict.

“Well?”

“Fucking disgusting. I'll have to force it down my throat, I'm afraid.”

“If you weren't so terrible at conveying sarcasm, I might actually believe you.”

Halfway through the meal, Louis' cat Tinker Bell leaps onto his lap and curls up into a ball there. Harry gasps delightedly and strokes her fur gently.

“This is Tinker Bell. She was a gift off Perrie.”

 _The first of many,_ she'd joked. Until Harry, Louis couldn't help but think she was right.

“Speaking of Perrie, I asked her and Zayn over for drinks later. You don't mind?”

“Of course not.”

Harry takes a backwards glance at V For Vendetta which has been paused for so long Louis is starting to think it'll imprint itself permanently onto the television screen, and snorts. “We're friends, right?”

“I have decided to hang onto you for all eternity, Harry darling.”

“Well, then. As a friend, I can tell you honestly--I hate V For Vendetta.”

Louis lets out a scandalised gasp. “You fraud! You partook in an enthusiastic discussion with me earlier on!”

“I was just trying to impress you. I would much sooner marathon Downton Abbey.”

It's Louis' turn to snort. “Of course you would. A costume drama about the snobby British aristocracy _totally_ triumphs a fast-paced action film starring Natalie Portman.”

“It's funny you say that, yet I noticed you have the entire five seasons on boxset.” Harry grins cheekily as he polishes off the last of his chicken. “Let me guess. They're Perrie's and she inadvertently left them here last time she held one of her slumber parties.”

This boy is sarcasm personified. He really should be on the radio.

“Why, that's correct. You're a magician.” Louis clears the plates and chucks them gracelessly in the sink. He hears the doorbell chime. Before he can blink, Harry's opened it.

“Is Louis here?” He hears Perrie ask.

“In the kitchen!” He hollers. “You're not allowed unless you brought alcohol!”

“I've got a bottle of red.”

“I'll get the glasses.”

\---

“What do you do, Harry?” Perrie asks, stretching out her legs. Tink is curled up on her lap. Whenever Perrie is here, Louis' cat flocks to her like she's her mate, it's terribly unfair.

“I'm looking for work, at the moment. I work part time at an ice cream parlour, close to Louis' studio, actually.”

If you listen closely, Louis thinks, you could actually hear Perrie's delight. “Oh my gosh, any privileges for friends of your boyfriend's?”

Both of them turn a shade of pink, which thankfully can be passed off as a result of the amount of wine they've consumed. “We're not boyfriends,” Harry says, pulling at a loose thread on his sock.

“May as well be,” Zayn pipes up helpfully. “You both act like you want to jump each other.”

A well placed elbow in the ribs shuts Zayn up.

“I'm going to go get some more pretzels.” Louis hops up off the sofa and hightails it into the kitchen. To his dismay, Perrie is hot on his heels.

She watches him shake some pretzels out into the dish with her arms crossed. “What is it?”

“Why aren't you guys fucking?”

“Shut up.”

“You've clearly got the hots for him. It might even be more than that. You've been hanging out with him non-stop for nearly a month now.” She closes the kitchen door behind her. Louis takes this as a bad sign.

“Come on, Perrie.”

“You've got a crush.”

“I'm sorry, Perrie. I had no idea that you suddenly became a love whisperer overnight!” He hisses.

“I'm doing all right with Zayn, aren't I?”

“Okay, fine. Harry's fit as fuck and he's lovely and he's fun to be around and maybe I am developing a crush on him. Nothing that I can't control, remember?” Perrie seems doubtful. “Remember that time when I went through that phase where I thought Sam Claflin was my soulmate?”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“Harry knows you exist and likes you back.”

“Don't be ridiculous. He doesn't like me.” Louis hurries to extinguish the kindle of fuzzy hope she's lit.

“Are you kidding? He looks at you like the sun shines out of your--”

“What's taking so long?” The kitchen door bursts out and Harry stands there, more than slightly tipsy and holding a full wine glass in his hand.

“Nothing!” Louis jolts, grabbing the pretzel bowl and hurrying back to the sofa. He hopes his red cheeks aren't noticeable.

“Pezza,” Zayn, the most sober of the lot, holds up his phone. “We'd best get going. We've got a friend looking after Prada and Hatchi.”

“Oh, of course.” Perrie hands her wine glass to Louis. “Thanks for having us, Lou. It was lovely seeing you, Harry.”

“Likewise!”

Perrie turns as she heads out the door. “Louis, movie night this Saturday? Just you and me?”

He kisses her cheek. “Course, babe. I'll text you.”

The door clicks shut behind them as they leave. Louis notices they've both forgotten their coats, but doesn't bother calling them back. Harry edges towards the door reluctantly.

“That's my cue to go too, right?”

Louis can see how he's swaying unsteadily on his feet, and gently pries his glass from his hand. “I'm a model citizen, Harry. I'm not about to let you drive when you've had about ten glasses of wine.”

Harry giggles. “Gross exaggeration.”

“You're such a lightweight.”

“Poppytosh,” The green eyes boy scoffs, making grabby hands for his drink.

“Cock,” Louis corrects. “Poppycock.”

“Yes, I love your cock,” Harry says, and pats Louis' cheek. Louis snorts loudly.

“Someone should record this.” Harry giggles, but he's still swaying back and forth. Before Louis can over-analyse it, he gestures toward the door of the spare bedroom. “Stay until morning.”

Harry's face lights up with surprise. The offer seems to sober him up slightly. “I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome.”

“I'm asking you, aren't I?”

“I suppose you are.” Harry smiles and tentatively reaches forward to hug Louis. “Thank you. Thank you, Louis.”

“There's a spare toothbrush until the sink. If you need anything in the night, help yourself. And as for pyjamas--well, I don't think mine will fit you, you big giraffe--”

Harry waves his hand dismissively. “It's quite alright, I sleep in the nude.”

Louis freezes. “I'm sorry?”

“Nothing more liberating, you know? I feel so free. You don't mind, do you?” He looks so innocent and cute that Louis can't stand it. He bats his mind away from where it's definitely headed (naked Harry) and smiles shakily.

“Good night, love.”

He practically sprints for his bedroom and shoves his face into his pillow, where it graciously muffles his agonised screams.

If he comes into his hand to thoughts of Harry looming over him naked, well. Nobody will ever know.

\--

Louis' been on the early morning radio shift for so long that his body clock has trained himself to wake up mere minutes before his alarm screams. Which is lucky, because he didn't want to wake Harry.

Harry, mother of God.

Louis closes his eyes and grits his teeth. What the hell is he meant to do about Harry? They're well on their way to sturdy friendship and a little more. Surely Louis can just leave him in the flat without it seeming too domestic?

He checks his phone as he staggers groggily into the shower. There's a text from Nick-- _Bring lattes._ He washes, takes care of his morning wood and dresses quickly. He's learnt not to take any care in his appearance, which is one of the perks of having a radio gig.

His hair is dripping wet, but he decides to not blow dry it like he normally would. He owns an abnormally noise blow dryer and the last thing he wants to do is wake Harry up early when he needs to sleep an excruciating hangover off.

The thing is, Louis' a loud and brash person by nature. But he finds he can be extremely quiet when he wants to. He tiptoes around his own flat like a mouse, munches his usual granola bar and he doesn't even make himself a coffee because the sound of the grinder would wake Harry.

God, Louis' knee deep and sinking lower.

When he avoids all noise-making tasks, he finds he has nothing but time on his hands. He writes Harry a quick note, sticks it on the door of the bathroom where he's sure not to miss it, and heads to work early.

With an extra twenty minutes at his disposal, he even pops into Starbucks, which he normally avoids like the plague in favour of Costa, because the queues are mental.

“Three cinnamon mocha lattes with cream, please,” Louis orders confidently. Since hanging out at Harry's café, he's become considerably better at ordering coffee. He usually gets all flustered, coffee was Nick's area of expertise. They had an unspoken agreements. Nick brought the caffeine, Louis brought breakfast.

“What's your name?” The barista asks, Sharpie at the ready.

“Louis,” Louis says, “Throw in that Danish pastry as well, please.”

He waits five minutes for his drinks, and when the barista calls his name, he pauses with his hand on the cups. “I recognise you now. I knew your voice rang a bell. Louis Tomlinson, right? BBC Radio 1?”

“That's me,” Louis smiles. “You know you've got a bad shift when you're up early enough to hear me on the radio.”

The barista laughs. “I like the stuff you play. What've you got lined up for this morning?”

Louis feels the USB key in his pocket burn against his leg. He'd taken Harry's playlist, hipster though it was, to work with him.

“It's not the usual stuff. A friend of mine compiled the tracks. Obscure songs, and the like.”

The barista smiled at him. “I'll make sure to turn the radio on.” He pauses for a second. “I'm Aaron.”

“Pleasure meeting you, Aaron.” Louis vaguely observed his good looks, before he takes his drinks and his Danish and hops back into his car.

“You're early,” Eleanor remarks as he makes it through the door. An outstanding feat considering both his hands are occupied. Her eyes rake over his wet hair. “Is it raining? Fuck, I didn't bring an umbrella.”

“No, no,” He says, sheepishly. “Just didn't have time to dry my hair.” In an attempt to divert her, he slaps the coffee down on her desk. “For you. I couldn't remember if you liked cinnamon, but if you don't, I'm sure Nick is all too willing to help you finish it.”

“This is lovely, thanks, babe.” She looks skeptically at him. “You're saying you had time to pop into Starbucks and still arrive here early, yet no time to dry your hair?”

“That's the story I'm sticking with, yes.”

He attempts to clock in, but Eleanor stops him. “Spill whatever beans you're hoarding.”

“I don't like beans.”

“Christ, Louis--”

“Alright, fine,” He concedes reluctantly. “Harry slept over.”

Eleanor gasps. “You two had sex?”

“No, no,” Louis hurries to say, his face aflame, “He was over having drinks with Perrie and Zayn and me. He had a few too many and I told him he could crash for the night.”

Eleanor snorts. “How courteous of you. I suppose the complimentary blowjob you threw in was well received.”

“There were no blowjobs involved.” Much to Louis' chagrin.

“I wish you'd just ask him out.” Eleanor sips her coffee, cautious of the heat.

“Not you too! Get off my back,” Louis grumbles, “Is Nick on air?”

“Nice subject change. I'll humour you.” He sticks his tongue out at her. “No, he's on an ad break. You better go set up your booth. Thanks for the coffee, Lou.”

He hurries up to Nick's booth, hoping to catch him before he goes back on air. He's too late, but he arrives just as Nick is playing a song. “Nicholas. Your latte, Your Majesty.”

Nick peers into the cup. “I didn't ask for cream.”

“Yeah, you won't ask for the pole you're getting jammed up your arse either, but alas.” Louis holds up the pastry. “I brought you a Danish.”

“I hate Danish pastries.”

“Yes, but I love them,” Louis grins and takes a huge bite. He's left chewing for a whole minute, but the scowl on Nick's face is worth it.

Louis leaves just as the song ends and proceeds to get his own booth ready. He sets up his playlist and checks today's agenda. He has an interview with a current X Factor contestant, and he's going to have to do some serious Google combing about them, considering he's never even heard of them in his life.

His phone buzzes to life in his pocket. He smiles when Harry's name flashes up on the screen.

_Got your note. Good luck on the show, will be listening! Thanks for everything.  
PS. Are we close enough friends that it's acceptable for me to wank in your shower? Because if not, oops. _

Louis feels like he's clinging to the edge of a cliff to stop from falling for this boy.

\--

[Harry]

Harry wakes to the sound of birds squalling outside his window. Which immediately strikes him as odd, because his room doesn't _have_ a window.

He checks his phone. 6:30AM. Shit, he's late. He should have turned on the radio a half hour ago, Louis will be on--

Louis.

He's in Louis' flat.

He's in Louis' flat and his head is _throbbing._

He's in Louis' flat with a fucking hangover. He groans and lets his head fall back into the pillow. He's never felt worse in his life and he remembers every detail from last night. He'd always thought his ability to retain memory after heavy alcohol consumption as a gift. Now he wishes he could forget.

He'd looked like a right tit, half drunk. Louis probably didn't know what to do with him and chucked him in the spare room.

He's got morning wood, but he also needs to throw up and it's a distressing combination. He stumbles to the bathroom, vaguely registers the note taped to the door and vomits into the toilet.

He feels pathetic and lousy, but mostly relieved that Louis isn't around to witness him. After he's cleaned his teeth using the spare toothbrush and taken liberty of the shower--he uses Louis' shower products, and takes great pleasure in knowing that Louis uses coconut shampoo, which also serves as a great lube for wanking off--he gets a closer look at the note on the door.

 _Harry,_  
_Hopefully you're reading that at an acceptable hour of the day and I haven't woken you up barging around the flat. I'm at work, and I trust you not to bomb the place. For the hangover--I left some paracetamol on the counter and if you're hungry, help yourself to the kitchen. But at your own peril, anything in my fridge is liable to be out of date. You can stay as long as you like, I'll probably be back before you're even awake._  
 _-Louis :)_

Harry wonders if keeping the note folded up in his wallet is going overboard. He decides he doesn't care.

He finds a portable radio in the cling room and sets it on the kitchen counter. He turns on Radio 1 and jumps out of his skin when he realises the song playing is one he added to Louis' playlist last night. Vegas Skies by The Cab.

Louis' using his playlist.

He feels giddy with happiness as he swallows down the painkillers and hunts in Louis' fridge for something to eat. He hums along to the song until it ends, and Louis' voice is crackling through the radio speakers.

“That, for most of you who won't know, is Vegas Skies by The Cab. Don't feel bad, up til a few minutes ago I had never heard of it either. Today's playlist was compiled by a friend of mine, Harry Styles. He's a bit of a hipster, but he's cute, so we deal with it. Here's another obscure tune coming your way.”

Harry's frozen with his head in the fridge. Louis mentioned him on the radio. Louis' playing his playlist. _Louis called him cute._ He doesn't think it's the hangover that's making him dizzy.

With a wide grin on his face, he resolves to make Louis brunch for when he returns. Unfortunately his plans are stilted when he discovers Louis hasn't much of anything in his fridge. A leftover Thai takeaway. Three and a half cartons of pineapple juice. A decidedly stale packet of HobNobs. A near empty bottle of milk.

Harry checks the time. 6:50AM. He could definitely run to the shops and make it back on time.

He grabs his car keys and sees the spare key to the flat hanging on a hook. Fighting off another wave of headache, he runs down to his car, turns on the radio and hits the accelerator.

Louis plays a song by The 1975, a Top 40 Ellie Goulding hit and then, to Harry's surprise-- _Anything, Anything_ by Dramarama. That song always seems to haunt Louis and Harry.

 _Our song,_ Harry thinks stupidly. He wishes someone were here to slap him.

While perusing the dairy section in Waitrose, Harry thinks he hears someone call his name. He looks over his shoulder and sees Nick Grimshaw with a sack of flour under his arm.

“Thought I saw you!” He approaches Harry and takes the liberty of dumping his flour in Harry's basket. “What're you doing up so early?”

Harry thinks about lying, but he's never been very good at it. “I stayed over at Louis' place last night. He has to get up so early--it woke me.” Okay, maybe the last part was a lie.

Nick looks like all his Christmas wishes have just come true. “You stayed over at Louis'? I wasn't going to go back to work, but I have to now to make fun of him.”

“We didn't do anything,” Harry hurries to correct.

“Sure you didn't,” Nick winks. “You're too good for him.”

“No, I'm not--”

“I knew that tosser was hiding something. He's been stupidly happy these past few weeks. I guess you're the reason.”

Harry tries not to grin. He doesn't succeed.

“Tell you what, Louis' dragging me to a football match tomorrow night. Doncaster Blowjobs or something, I dunno--” Harry laughs out loud. “I'm supposed to be meeting him there. How about I give you my ticket, and you can show up instead.”

Nick looks incredibly pleased with himself at this master plan.

“You don't have to do that--”

“Please, babe. He was practically dragging me there by my hair. I hate football.”

“So do I,” Harry admits.

“Well, at least you like Louis' company and that's more than I can say for the wanker.” Harry sees his face is fond though, so he doesn't leap to Louis' defence.

Nick pulls out his wallet and slides out the ticket. “Look at me, pulling out me wallet in the further corner of the shop. We look proper dodgy.”

He hands Harry the ticket. He glances at it briefly. Doncaster Rovers vs Tottenham Spurs. “I'll text you the finer details. Don't tell Louis, though, and please film his reaction.”

Harry rocks back and forth on his heels, pleased. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Please. I have an ulterior motive.” He leans in close to whisper dramatically, “I kind of just want you two together so he can stop pining.”

“I'm sure he doesn't pine.”

Nick smirks and takes back his flour sack. Harry wonders why he needs such a large bag. “Bye, Harry.”

\--

Harry tucks the ticket safely in his pocket and sets to cooking Louis brunch. A fry up seems like the best option, but of course Louis doesn't own a frying pan, so he has to make do with a pot.

He times it perfectly. He piles scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, a heap of buttered toast and beans onto two respective plates and sets them on the table. They're just reaching a cool enough temperature to eat when a key slots into the lock and the front door clicks open.

“Harry? Are you--oh.” Louis takes in the table, as well as Harry standing nervously beside it with an apron tied around his waist. “Did you make all this?”

Harry bows. “Brunch. For you. If you haven't already eaten, that is.”

A wide smile graces Louis' lips. “For me?”

“As a thank you for having me last night. Also an apology for drunk me.”

Louis looks absolutely thrilled. He bounds over and throws his arms around Harry. “Thank you! You didn't have to do this.”

Harry struggles to keep calm as he wraps his arms around Louis' small waist. “I wanted to.”

“Where'd you get all this stuff? I don't shop often.”

“I can see that. I did a little grocery shopping.” Louis pulls open the fridge and examines its contents.

“Wow. Let me pay you back, Christ.”

“Half and call it even.”

Louis shrugs. “Whatever you want. I'm starving, let's eat.”

He grabs ketchup from the cupboard and loads it onto his plate. Harry observes him with his eyebrows raised. “So you're one of those.”

“What?”

“Ketchup lover.”

“Can't have a good fry up without ketchup, H. It's a crime.”

They sit down and tuck into Harry's fry up. Louis lets out a filthy moan that goes straight to Harry's dick. He shifts uncomfortably. “Oh my God, this is fantastic. Never leave.”

“It's nothing, Lou.”

“So modest. You should have a cooking programme on the radio. I'll talk to my boss.” He jokes.

Harry laughs. Louis doesn't say much more bar complimenting the cooking. He scrapes his plate clean and leans back in his chair with a happy sigh.

“So, about this wanking in my shower.”

Harry giggles sheepishly.

\--

When he lets himself into the flat, it's well past ten o'clock and Niall is in the kitchen, concocting some sort of smoothie.

“Where were you, mate?” Niall asks, before looking up at him. “Wait, don't tell me. You were with Tommo.”

“How'd you--”

“You've got your Louis smile on.”

Harry twists his mouth into a straight line. “I don't have a Louis smile, Niall.”

“You do so,” Niall crows. “It's the cutest thing ever.”

“I stayed over at Louis' last night,” Harry mentions nonchalantly, hoping to extract a reaction. He isn't disappointed.

Niall's face is the vision of shock. “No you didn't.”

“I so did.”

“You had to much to drink and you think you did, but you didn't.”

“Niall--”

“What colour wallpaper did he have?”

Harry splutters. “I barely noticed! Black, I think?”

“Please, you were probably taking notes on the infrastructure.”

The curly haired boy scowls. “Suck a dick.”

“Already have.”

It's Harry's turn to look shocked. “The fuck? When?”

Niall shrugs, as if this weren't crucial information that should have been offered up immediately after the event occurred. “In some club a few months ago? I dunno.”

“Niall, you're straight as a pole.”

“Experimenting never hurt again.”

“Did you like it?”

Niall shrugs again. “Wasn't bad. Personally prefer getting me dick sucked but I suppose doing the sucking is only fair from time to time.”

Harry's mind is blown. He shakes his head and sits down next to his friend.

“So, how was Louis'?” Niall asks.

“Thought you didn't believe me.”

“Nah, when you lie you fidget. Wouldn't take you on a heist if you begged me.”

Harry pretends to be affronted. “Hey.”

“Come on. I want the juicy details, bro.”

“There are none,” Harry said, albeit reluctantly. If there were any dirty details, he’d certainly have no problem sharing them. “Nothing happened.”

Niall seems unimpressed. He seems outraged, actually. “You slept within 30 feet of the man whose voice talking about the weather gets you off and you didn't even fuck?”

Harry shifts and cuddles into Niall's side. “I don't know. I think I want more than a fuck.”

Niall scratches Harry’s scalp absent mindedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got to know him and he's really lovely and he makes me happy every time I'm with him.”

“Aw, Hazza's got a proper crush!” Niall cooes, slopping a wet kiss on his forehead. “You absolute cutie. Should I sound the wedding bells?”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs. “I think I'm going on an accidental date with him tomorrow.” He thinks of Nick’s ticket tucked away in his wallet.  
“Your use of the word ‘accidental’ unsettles me. Does this date involve chloroform or rohypnol?”

“Niall!”

“Fine, I'll humour you.”

“I met Nick Grimshaw today. He gave me his tickets to a football match he was going to with Louis and told me to go in his place.”

“Sick! Donny Rovers?” Harry nods. “Invite him back here for a nightcap.”

“What about you?”

“I'm going out with Ed and his girlfriend tomorrow evening. Won't be back til late.”

“You just want me to fuck him,” Harry grins. He himself is hardly opposed to the idea.

Niall grins lewdly. “You think he'd take it?”

“Oh, he’s definitely a bottom. Have you seen his arse? It's magnificent.” And it has featured in many wanking fantasies of Harry’s.

Niall picks up his guitar again and starts strumming the opening chords of Riptide by Vance Joy. Harry hums along absent mindedly, until Niall stops playing and looks at him.

“Don't you have work today?”

“Shit, yeah,” Harry jumps up and takes a glance at the clock. “Fuck. I'm late.”

He throws on his uniform, can't find his name tag, decides it doesn't matter, and legs it down to the tube. The parlour is only two stops away, but he still ends up being fifteen minutes late. Jade is irritated when he bursts through the door.

“Help me!” She says, jerking her head at the line of customers waiting for an ice cream. Harry washes his hands quickly, pulls on a pair of latex gloves and plasters on a beaming smile.

“Welcome to Ice Castle. How can I help you?”

When the queue has started to thin out, Harry takes the opportunity to apologise to Jade for his tardiness.

“Don't worry,” She says, “I was just stressed out. It's never this busy usually.”

Harry wanders over to the coffee machine to brew a black coffee for a middle aged lady.

“Your Louis called around looking for you earlier,” Jade mentions casually. Harry nearly drops the cup. Thankfully, he has quick reflexes.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He was disappointed when I told him you weren't here.”

Harry can't stop grinning. He's cheeriness personified to the next six customers, and as soon as he's on his break, he takes out his phone and texts Louis.

_Heard you came by ;)_

His phone buzzes in his hand almost immediately. _Nope must have been an imposter!! :)_

_Michelle Pfeiffer does look quite like you. Same cheekbones. You're the closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that I've ever seen._

_Surprised you know the lyrics to ‘Riptide.’ Thought it was too mainstream for you?_ Harry scoffs.

_Shut upppp....why were you down here?_

_Pfeiffs was impersonating me. Call the cops!_

Harry laughs and tucks his phone away. He could text Louis all day, but his break is over and he doesn't want to leave Jade alone too long. He goes back to scooping pistachio. He doesn't stop smiling for the rest of his shift.

\---

The next day, when Harry hauls himself out of bed at six am to turn on Radio 1, he's met with Louis' chirpy “G'morning, it's the Tommo!” The first song on his playlist is Riptide.

Harry sings along loudly with a huge smile on his face as he makes himself breakfast.

_“Lady, running down to the riptide, taken away by the dark side. I wanna be your left hand man.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos or comment if you like.


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry go to a football match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Direction or BBC or any of its affiliates. This is fiction and intended for entertainment.

**III. [Louis]**

 

“Latte for you,” Nick barges into his booth and sets down a battered coffee cup with no lid on his desk. 

 

“Thanks,” Louis says, his earphones splayed on his head. “I go back on air in like, forty seconds though. You better leg it.”

 

Nick rumples his hair and dances out of the booth, wiggling his arse. Louis calls him back just as he reaches the door.

 

“Grimmy! We still on for the footie match tonight?”

 

He hears Nick snort as he heads down the corridor. “Sure, Tommo.”

 

Louis wants to say something back, but he's on air now and he has to quickly spin around and speak into the mic in his radio voice. 

 

“Thanks for sticking with us. Before the break, I played Riptide and now, due to request, I have some Nico & Vinz lined up. Here is ‘Am I Wrong.’”

 

Louis kicks his feet up and takes out his phone to text Harry, who he knows will be up. The ice cream parlour never opens before eight, but Harry's up at six every day. Louis has no idea why. He practically has to pry himself out from bed every morning. 

 

He started radio presenting a few years ago. He'd never done anything like it before, but he was looking for money to rent his own flat. He'd originally tried to break into acting, and he wasn't well off. He'd been crashing on his friend's sofas but he needed his own place. Louis had met Nick Grimshaw in a gay club, and had been charmed by Louis' wit and humour. Nick told him that one of the morning presenters on BBC Radio 1 had quit and they were looking for a replacement to fill his six am slot. 

 

“What, me?” Louis said. “Jesus. I'm flattered, but like. I'd be shit.”

 

“You've got a great radio voice,” Nick told him. “I think you'd be really good. Here is my card,” He pulled a professional looking card out of his wallet. “Think about it and give me a call.”

 

The next morning, Louis forced himself to get up early and listen to Nick Grimshaw on the radio. It seemed fun, and Louis just thought, “Why not?”

 

He dialled Nick's number after the show ended. It rang twice before he picked up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“This is Louis.” He waited for a moment, anxious that he wouldn't pick up a random number. 

 

“Ah, hi, Louis.” 

 

Louis took a deep breath. “When can I start?” 

 

He'd never gotten out of the morning slot. The station manager said that the six am time slot normally had very few listeners, but since Louis had taken over, the ratings had gone up. He'd been very pleased, but getting up at five am every day was hardly a pleasure. There is a silver lining though--he gets to complain about it to anyone who will listen. 

 

The song ends and Louis doesn't bother introducing the next song. He plays an Arctic Monkeys number, a smooth transition, and takes a sip of his latte.

 

\---

 

“Good show,” Eleanor tells him on his way out. 

 

“Merci beaucoup,” He says, and bows. She seems incredibly busy, typing frantically away on her keyboard with dozens of notes scattered on the desk. 

 

“You seem busy,” Louis leans over the reception desk to see what she's doing. “What's this for?”

 

“It's this new scheme the BBC is doing. I'm not supposed to tell you.”

 

Louis forces his face into a cute pout. “But you'll tell me anyway, right, El?” 

 

“Shoo, you pest.”

 

“Miaow.”

 

Louis doesn't protest as he normally would at being left in the dark. This morning Harry's working and he hopes to catch him in the parlour. He shrugs, clocks out of the studio, and walks down to the parlour. His feet automatically find the way. 

 

When he bundles himself into the ice cream parlour, Harry's one of three employees. He recognises Jade and there's some other guy. He's good looking, but next to Harry he may as well be a beetle. 

 

He takes a few seconds to watch Harry bustle about. He scoops ice cream with a huge smile on his face, and he adds sprinkles when the customer doesn't ask for them, and he snacks on a dry cone in between customers. 

 

His face lights up even more when he notices Louis. Louis pretends his stomach doesn't leap at the happiness on Harry's face. 

 

“Can I help you?” The other guy asks, which makes Louis jump. He didn't realise he'd been standing at the counter. 

 

“No you cannot!” Harry hipchecks the boy away. “This one's mine.”

 

Harry fixes Louis with a wide smile. His dimples dent his cheeks. Louis wants to lean over and kiss him quite a bit. 

 

“Can I please have a Harry Styles and a side of curly hair?”

 

“The curly hair comes with the Harry Styles. Dimples included.”

 

Louis laughs and leans his elbows on the counter in such a way that makes his arse stick out. “Did you listen to my show?”

 

“Aha!” The other boy exclaims. Louis startles. “So you're on the radio. I knew I recognised your voice.”

 

“Louis, this is Sean. Sean, this is Louis Tomlinson. He works with the BBC,” Harry says.

 

“Radio 1,” Louis supplies helpfully, “I've got the arse o'clock shift.”

 

Harry cuts in. “What brings you here?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You must really like the ice cream.”

 

“No, just you.”

 

Louis regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth, but Harry's whole face lights up, so it's worth it.

 

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Louis says proudly. Harry raises an eyebrow as if to say _well done._  “That's my day off.”

 

“You got any plans?”

 

“As a matter of fact, yes Harold. I do.” Louis leans over the counter. “Would you like to spend the day with me?”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yeah, my favourite ice cream server.” 

 

Louis doesn't know when he grew balls but he's glad he did. Harry nods emphatically. 

 

“I'd love to, Lou! We can braid each other's hair and paint each other's toenails.”

 

Louis is so endeared.  He smiles. “My favourite colour is blue.”

 

“Like your eyes?” 

 

“No, like your balls on a sex drought.” 

 

They both laugh. Sean the server suddenly pops in and interrupts their conversation. “I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Harry.”

 

Louis giggles and watches Harry squirm and flush. “I--Sean. I mean--Louis' not my--we're just--”

 

“Harry's too fit for me, Sean,” Louis grins, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder. “Shame.”

 

Harry turns a bright pink. Louis loves it. He reaches over and pinches his cheek. Harry flicks him on the nose. 

 

Louis can see why they could be mistaken for a couple.

 

The bell overhead the door chimes and Louis moves to let a customer through. It's a fairly attractive guy and he walks straight up to the counter and winks at Harry.

 

“Hey, Todd,” Harry grins, winking back. Louis blinks. 

 

“Hi, pretty thing. Give me some sugar?” 

 

Harry grins and licks his lips. “Ice cream or otherwise?”

 

Louis' heart hurts. What's he thinking, pining over Harry? If he can flirt so openly with other guys in front of Louis, he must not want him back. Right? 

 

Louis doesn't want to watch their flirting progress. He turns on his heel and leaves the ice cream parlour. The chiming bells signal his exit. 

 

\---

 

“Zayny, baby!” Louis exclaims. He's just gotten back to his flat in order to shower and get ready for meeting Nick for the footie match. Zayn's let himself in with the key Louis gave him a few months ago and is sprawling on the sofa watching trashy reality TV.

 

“Where's Pezza?”

 

“She's having a girl's night with her mates. She wanted me out of the house like a musty smell.”

 

Louis laughs and opens up the fridge to take a can of coke out. “Feel free to take refuge here.”

 

“I did. Although I was pleasantly surprised to find your fridge sufficiently stocked.” 

 

“Harry went shopping for me.” The corners of Louis' mouth tilt up automatically at Harry's name and really, this is getting out of hand. 

 

  _He doesn't like you back! He was flirting with someone else!_  

 

Zayn sits up. “Fit Ice Cream Boy?”

 

“Really, Z, you've met him on several occasions, there's no need to keep referring to him as that.” Louis takes a pack of grapes out of the fridge and starts munching on them. He's loving all this actual food in his house, as opposed to left over takeaways and microwaveables. 

 

“What about The Boy You Want to Bang?” 

 

“Doesn't have the same ring to it.”

 

“I suppose not. But really--he   _grocery shopped_   for you. How very domestic.” Zayn wiggles his eyebrows. “Something you're not telling me, Louis?”

 

“We're friends.”

 

“But you have a crush.”

 

“Oh Christ. First Perrie, then Eleanor and Nick and now you.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I do not have a crush. I will tell you when my attraction has become that strong.”

 

Louis so has a crush. He wants Harry so bad. 

 

“He doesn't like me, anyway,” Louis says. “He was flirting with another guy today. In front of me.”

 

Zayn kisses Louis' temple in silent consolation and thankfully, decides to drop the subject. “Were you on your way somewhere?” 

 

Before he can answer, his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's Harry. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

 

 _why'd u leave without saying goodbye? wanted u to stay :(_  

 

He shoves the phone back in his pocket. His stomach twists. Jesus, he has to stop this nonsense before he actually falls for Harry. 

 

“Yeah. I'm getting ready. I'm going to a football match with Nick this afternoon.”

 

Zayn actually snorts. “Nick and football. That's funny.”

 

Louis glares at him playfully. “You're terrible. You dislike him and he continues to lust after your dick. It's an endless cycle.” 

 

“I don't dislike him,” Zayn scrunches his nose. 

 

“Really? I do.” 

 

“How the two of you are best friends I will never fathom.”

 

Louis lunges onto the sofa and cuddles up to Zayn. “You're my best friend, Zayny!” 

 

Zayn kisses his temple then pushes him off. “Go shower. You smell.”

 

“How was work at the school?”

 

Zayn groans. “Being a TA is shit. One of the Year 11's tried to come onto me. It was so awkward.” 

 

“Anna Redhart again?”

 

“No, she was supposedly absent today. But she was definitely playing hooky with her boyfriend.”

 

“Oh the exciting world of teaching,” Louis wriggles his eyebrows. 

 

“You'd be a good teacher.” Zayn pokes his stomach. “Kids love you.” 

 

“That reminds me, I need to call my mum later. I haven't spoken to my sisters in like, a month.”

 

Zayn pushes him off. “Really, go shower.”  

 

“Stop piling up my DVR with crap!” Louis calls as he heads for the bathroom. There, he strips and climbs into the shower. He's running low on his apple shampoo, but he uses the remainder of it to lather his hair. 

 

Harry was in this shower not two days ago. 

 

Louis' mind drifts off to thoughts of Harry naked, wet and soapy. He imagines Harry pressing him up against the wall of the shower and kissing him senseless, then making Louis fall to knees and suck him off right there, making pretty noises while Louis tongues his cock. 

 

Louis groans quietly and wraps a hand around his fattening cock. He jerks off slowly, the water making the slide of his hand on his cock easy, and he comes to thoughts of Harry holding him up, fingers deep in his arse. 

 

He's only slightly ashamed when he hops out of the shower and dries himself off. 

 

\---

 

[Harry]

 

  _Wait outside the stadium by the merchandise stand. 6:15. Look sexy ;)_

 

Harry's followed Nick's instructions and he waits in his designated spot for Louis to arrive. He's learnt that Louis is often late, but it doesn't stop the thought crossing his mind that this was all a prank. Louis' not going to come and this is a fake ticket and Doncaster Rovers aren't even playing today. 

 

He buys a cap with their logo on it just in case. 

 

He spots Louis ten minutes later, turning the corner and craning his neck to look for Nick. He waits nervously. What if Louis isn't pleased to see him? What if he tells him to go home? What if he doesn't want Harry there? What if he wanted an evening out with his witty presenter mate? 

 

Louis comes within four feet of Harry when he sees him. His face lights up with surprise. “Harry!” He says. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Buying this cap.” Harry sheepishly wields the merchandise. 

 

He places his hands on his hips. “I didn't know you were a Donny fan.” 

 

“I'm not. I'm here in Nick's place.” He digs the ticket out of his pocket and waves it at Louis. “He told me to come.”

 

Louis doesn't say anything for a few seconds, which doesn't help Harry's ever growing anxiety. He bites his lip nervously. 

 

“Are you not happy to see me?” He asks quietly. Louis jerks out of his stupor. A pretty smile graces his face. 

 

“Of course I am, H! You're way more fun than him!” He crowds into Harry's space and wraps his arms around his neck. Harry breathes him in before hugging him against his chest. 

 

“This is so much better than that old toad. Come on, let's go!” Louis is happiness personified as he takes Harry's hand--(oh holy fuck)--and leads him towards the stadium. 

 

They have a few minutes to spare before kick off, so they buy some teeth rottingly unhealthy food. Louis opts for candyfloss while Harry buys a bag of salt and vinegar crisps bigger than his head. They make their way to the seats which are in a fairly decent location. Hardly close enough to smell the sweat off the players, but not far enough that they're ants scurrying around on a field. 

 

“Are you a football fan?” Louis raises his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Harry lies. “Love it.”

 

Louis angles his body towards Harry. “Did you see Bayern Munich vs Paris St-Germain yesterday?” 

 

Harry vaguely remembers Niall staying up late last night to watch the highlights of a game. “Yeah, it was a great match!”

 

The corner of Louis' lip quirks upwards. “Didn't Fabregàs play fantastic? That hat trick for PSG was unreal.” 

 

“Oh yeah, it was brilliant!” Harry agrees sheepishly. He's confused when Louis bursts out laughing. He tweaks Harry's earlobe and says with a fond voice, “Oh Hazza. You're not a football person at all, are you?”

 

Harry blushes and shuffles his feet on the ground. “How'd you know?”

 

Louis' still laughing when he replies. “Because Fabregàs doesn't play for PSG, he plays for Chelsea.”

 

If it were possible for Harry to turn redder, he would. Thankfully, the match starts and Louis' out of his seat, roaring along with the fans and booing when the referee makes a bad decision.

 

When one of the Donny players scores, Louis shrieks and throws his arms around Harry, squeezing him and jumping up and down. 

 

“We scored, Haz!” He bellows triumphantly. “We are the champions, my friend!”

 

“And we will keep fighting till the end,” Harry sings.

 

Louis' eyebrows raise. “I didn't know you were a singer.”

 

Harry shrugs. “I guess, yeah. Back when I was fifteen I had a band. We gigged in youth clubs and shit. We were terrible.”

 

“Sing for me sometime?”

 

Harry snorts. “Sometime in the very distant future, perhaps.”

 

Louis smiles. “I guess I'll have to keep you around then, Curly.”

 

His stomach flips. “Guess you will.”

 

\---

 

The match ends with a satisfying 2-0 score to Doncaster, which has Louis in high spirits for the rest of the night. He slings his arm around Harry's shoulder as they make their way out of the stadium.

 

“Did you drive?” Louis asks. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Drive me home?”

 

Like Harry would let him take the tube alone when it was nearing night. “Sure.” 

 

They get into Harry's battered green Skoda. Harry watches as Louis fumbles around in the glove box. He raises his eyebrow as he starts the car ignition. “Looking for something?”

 

Louis hums. “No, just browsing. You can tell a lot about a person by looking at what they keep in their car.”

 

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

 

“Well, there's no ciggies in here so you don't smoke, but I knew that already. Judging by this pink silk scarf, you're either into some sexual bondage shit or--”

 

“That's my sister's!”

 

“Gemma?”

 

Harry grins. “You remembered.” 

 

“Course. The one that's getting married this year, right?”

 

“That's right.” 

 

“Anyway. You've got the Eurovision 2010 album and what seems to be the entire soundtrack to Wicked--”

 

“All right,” Harry laughs, reaching over to slam the glove box shut. “Get outta my stuff, nosy little shit.”

 

They pull over outside Louis' building. He unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door. 

 

“Bye, Lou,” Harry says. Louis frowns, pausing with his hand on the door handle. 

 

He doesn't look at Harry as he says, “Aren't you coming in?”

 

Harry blinks. “Do you want me to?”

 

Louis turns to face him. “Do _you_  want to?” He shoots Harry a sheepish (gorgeous) smile. “I have the entire series of Friends.”

 

Harry giggles. “I guess that seals the deal.” 

 

\---

 

“Beer or wine?”

 

“Whatever you're having,” Harry says, collapsing on the couch as Louis throws him a cold can of beer. It hits him in the groin and he doubles over.

 

“Right in the balls,” Louis laughs, pumping his fist. “That's gotta hurt.”

 

“You sadist,” Harry wails. “Excuse me, I just have to check all my balls are still there.” 

 

Louis rolls his eyes. “You're such a diva. Just put on the telly.” 

 

He grabs the remote, but shoots Louis a wounded look. He strokes Tinker Bell, who is curled up between the two on the sofa. “You suck. At least your cat loves me.”

 

“Tink is a slut. She loves anything that strokes her.” 

 

Harry gasps and covers Tink's furry ears with his hands. “Don't call your cat a slut! She's only young!” 

 

“I've had her three years, she's not that young.”

 

“How long do cats live? Assuming you don't throw them under a bus or something.” 

 

Louis snorts. “Now we know why you don't have any pets.”

 

“I used to have a fish, but I forgot it existed and so I forgot about feeding it and for some strange reason, it died.” 

 

Louis laughs and Harry gets that's stupid feeling in his chest, the feeling he gets every time he makes Louis laugh. “What was its name?” Louis asks.

 

“Fishy.”

 

“Very witty.”

 

“My mum thought so too.”

 

They settle back with their beers and watch Friends, the episode where the cake ends up looking like a penis. Harry spends the episode mostly watching Louis laugh at everything Chandler says.

 

“I think you've got a bit of a crush on Chandler,” Harry says, nudging his side.

 

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Chandler? Nah. He's just hilarious. If anyone, I'd go for Joey.” 

 

“That actor's really old and fat now, you know.” 

 

Louis grins and turns his attention back to the TV. “God, that penis cake is iconic. Get me one of them for my birthday, Harold?” 

 

Harry smiles at the implication that he's going to be around for Louis' birthday. “I'll bake it myself.”

 

“Can it be an exact replica of your penis?”

 

Harry swallows, his composure wavering. “That can be arranged, I'm sure.” He diverts the subject quickly, “I have a question for you.” 

 

“Shoot,” Louis says, sipping his beer.

 

“If you had to choose. Food or sex?”

 

The feathery haired boy looks physically wounded. “You can't make me choose.”

 

“You have to.”

 

“Okay, food. No, sex. No, wait, food. Oh God, I don't know! It's too hard.” Louis wrinkles his nose, looking upset. It's so cute Harry almost wants to cry. “What about you?”

 

“Sex, I think. Because if I gave up sex, I wouldn't be able to have any children.”

 

“Of course you would go for the sentimental aspect of it, you big sap,” Louis scoffs. “And in case it escaped your notice, you're not into the baby making organs and the last time I checked, men can't squeeze babies out their arses.” 

 

Harry laughs and shrugs. “Would you like some crisps?”

 

“I'd love some,” Louis grins and his eyes crinkles and--where was he? Right. Crisps. “Why don't you hop up and get some?”

 

“It's your apartment,” says Harry but he gets up anyway, because if Louis asks him to get crisps, he's going to get crisps. “What flavour do you want?” 

 

“I've only got salt and vin,” Louis says, smacking Harry's bum. “There's a good boy.” 

 

Harry gulps as he head for the kitchen.

 

 

\---

 

 

[Louis]

 

Harry returns with salt and vinegar crisps, in a  _bowl_   no less and Louis feels his heart strings tug. 

 

“Thanks, love,” He grins, dipping his hand into the bowl. They're silent or the next few minutes, save for the crisp crunching. When the episode comes to a close, he jerks his head towards the TV, “Next episode?”

 

Harry shrugs. “I don't know, I should get going.” 

 

Louis hopes his face doesn't fall, along with his heart. He takes a swig of beer. “Aw, come on. The next episode is really good.” 

 

Harry chuckles. “I'm sure it is, but if I don't go now, I'll have to drive at pitch dark and I hate doing that. It makes me really antsy.” 

 

“You've been drinking, H.” Louis' not sure why he wants Harry to stay longer so much. Harry's presence seems like an immediate necessity and he'd feel terribly lonely if he left. 

 

“I've had half a beer, Lou. I'm not  _that_  much of a lightweight.”

 

Louis places his hand on Harry's knee. “If you stay, I can regale you with stories of me drunk at a club. I was with Grimmy and Zayn. A guy asked if I was a stripper, because I had the body of one. So I stripped off right there, naked to me boxers and then--” He cut himself off, enjoying the shocked look on Harry's face. 

 

“And? And what?”

 

Louis smirks and sits back. “I'd tell you, but you have to leave.” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You're such a dick.” He glances at the kitchen clock. “I guess I can stay for a bit longer.”

 

Louis beams and claps his hands. “There's a lad!” It must be the liquid courage, but he finds himself saying, “You know, it's dark. Why don't you stay over?” 

 

Something flickers across the curly haired boy's face. “Louis, that's sweet. Thanks. I'd love to.”

 

“You can't have the guest room, though. I still haven't changed the sheets from when Grimmy stayed over.”

 

“Oh, I don't mind--”

 

“No, no, you do,” Louis rushes, “He had some guy in there and the sheets are so disgusting that I refuse to touch them.”

 

Harry wrinkles his nose. “He slept with a guy in your flat?”

 

“His is being refurbished and it's a complicated relationship. See, I'm still in debt from the time I accidentally stole the guy he was going to take home that night.”

 

Harry snorts and settles back into the couch. “Anyway, I'm sure we can work out some kind of sleeping arrangement. Now finish your stripper story.”  

 

\---

 

“Louis? Louis, wake up, love.” 

 

Louis startles awake. The first thing he notices is the Friends theme tune dimly playing in the background. The second thing he notices is that his head resting on something that is decidedly not his pillow and it feels a lot like Harry's lap. 

 

“Sorry to wake you, Lou, but it's like one AM. You fell asleep on my shoulder, but my shoulder is really bony so I thought you'd be more comfortable on my lap.” 

 

Louis really just wants to kiss him. 

 

He blinks and finds his voice, which is lodged deep in his throat. “God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you.”

 

“Lou, it's fine. I've been watching TV, you were no bother. But we should probably figure out sleeping arrangements?”

 

“Right, of course.” Louis stands up, his hair flattened on one side from where he was lying. Harry reaches up and runs his hand through it. Louis coughs. “You take my bed.”

 

“And where are you gonna sleep?” 

 

Louis gestures to the sofa. Harry stands up. “Louis, this is your flat. Don't be ridiculous. I'll sleep on the sofa.”

 

“Harry, that sofa is about as uncomfortable as a bed of rocks. I'm used to it, but your pretty body doesn't stand a chance.” Louis teases, pinching his bum. 

 

“You don't think I'm tough?” Harry pouts.

 

“I cannot believe I'm actively taking part in this conversation--”

 

“I know!” Harry throws his long arm up into the air, his face alight. “Rock, Paper, Scissors! Whoever wins gets to choose where they sleep.”

 

Louis is hopelessly gone. He never even stood a chance.  

 

“All right Styles,” Louis says, putting his hand behind his back as Harry does the same. He narrows his eyes. What will Harry pick? He definitely seems like a Scissors kind of guy. Rock it is, then.

 

“Rock, Paper, Scissors!” They shove their hands out. “Yeah, baby!” Louis flings his triumphant Rock into the air. “I win! I get the sofa!” 

 

Harry pouts. “You just said it was really uncomfortable! If you wake up tomorrow with a broken back, I'll kill you.”

 

Louis bows. “Enjoy my bed, Harold. I'm going to clean me teeth.” 

 

Harry follows, and cleans his teeth using toothpaste and a finger. “Are you sure about your bed?” 

 

“If you plan to wank in it, then no.”

 

Harry smiles and shakes his head. “Can I borrow a book? I like to read myself to sleep, usually.”

 

 _God, he's so fucking cute_.  Louis thinks, and then it really hits him.

 

Holy fucking shit, he's got a crush on Harry. Not a flimsy crush, he really _likes_ him and oh God, how did this happen?

 

“Yeah, go ahead. Bookshelf's in me bedroom,” he murmurs, without really hearing himself speak. 

 

Harry leans over and kisses his cheek. He backs out of the bathroom, grinning cheekily. Louis waits until he's out of sight before he leans on the sink and closes his eyes. 

 

He seriously has to get a fucking grip onto himself.

 

\--- 

 

Louis plugs his phone in to the socket beside the sofa and wanders over to click off the lamp. He has his glass of water, he has a blanket and pillow and he is  _not_   in anyway tempted to go in and see what Harry looks like curled up in his bed. 

 

He settles down into the sofa, shifting and twisting until the spring doesn't dig into his spine. He finally assumes a comfortable position when a shadow falls over him.

 

“Lou?”

 

Hmm.  _Not_   curled up in his bed, then. 

 

Harry stands over him, his duvet around his waist and looking so goddamn cute Louis is just about ready to throw himself out the window. “What's up, H?”

 

“I was thinking about it and if you should have to sleep on an uncomfortable couch, so should I.”

 

“What the--” He can only watch as Harry plonks himself and the duvet down beside Louis and lies horizontally next to him. He's so long and lanky and there really is no room whatsoever but Louis just laughs.

 

“You're ridiculous.”

 

“You should go on the outside, it'd make more sense.”

 

They switch places and Louis abandons all inhibitions when Harry wraps an arm around his waist. “To stop you falling off,” He clarifies, but they're cuddled under a duvet together and Harry is spooning Louis so he doesn't give a shit for the reason why. 

 

He cuddles into Harry and closes his eyes. He feels a bit claustrophobic right now, and he knows it's ridiculous because they could easily end their misery and relocate to the bed. But Louis' not quite sure they're there yet and he doesn't want to mess up this little thing they've got going on, so he just curls into Harry's warmth and falls asleep. 

 

 

\---

 

 

He wakes up abruptly, forgets where he is and nearly tumbles right off the couch as a result. An arm tightens around his waist and drags him back into a body.

 

A body? 

 

Ah, yes. The sofa sharing incident. 

 

He barely has time to enjoy waking up cuddled into Harry, however, because he feels something pressed against his boxer clad arse. Something that appears to be Harry's hard on.

 

He's so torn between pretending he doesn't notice and grinding back against Harry's cock. 

 

He subtly presses his arse back and rolls it against Harry's dick. He figures if he pretends to be asleep, he can get away with it without too much embarrassment.

 

He feels Harry stiffen, but he doesn't say or do anything so he continues to rub his bum against his morning wood, trying to ignore his own cock straining in its boxers. He can feel the outline of Harry's cock and he really just wants to pull his boxers down and suck Harry off until he's a writhing mess. Neither of them are saying anything, until Louis grinds back particularly hard and Harry lets out a loud moan.

 

It's an effective startle back to reality. 

 

Louis jumps and forgets how close he is to the edge of the sofa. Without Harry's arm there to pull him back, he tumbles onto the floor, landing with a crash and banging his elbow hard.

 

He doesn't hear a stream of apologies from Harry, which is unusual. He looks up and Harry is red faced and sweaty, trying desperately to avoid eye contact. 

 

“I'm...I'm sorry. Can I use the bathroom?” 

 

Louis, notably flustered himself, nods. Harry practically sprints to the door and Louis hears the click of the lock as Harry shuts himself in. 

 

Louis buries his head in his hands, because oh god, what just happened? Did he really just hump Harry's cock? Harry's never going to look him in the eye again. 

 

He tries not to think about how Harry's probably jerking off in his bathroom right now. It just sends blood rushing to his cock, and man, he needs a cold shower. 

 

He goes to the kitchen sink and splashes freezing water on his face. He turns on the TV and watches some crappy morning chat show with Phillip Schofield and every time he thinks of Harry's breathy moan, he pinches his inner thigh so hard it prompts a few tears. It works, for the most part. By the time Harry emerges from the bathroom, his erection has reasonably subsided and he doesn't feel like he's going to die of embarrassment any time soon. 

 

“Listen, Louis,” Harry starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I am...I am so sorry, I'm really embarrassed about--”

 

“Hey, hey,” Louis interrupts, because no, what does Harry have to be embarrassed about? Louis' the moron who rubbed against his morning wood like a dog in hear. “It's my fault, if anyone's, okay? I'm sorry, we both had morning wood--” did Harry's gaze just flicker down to his crotch? For Louis' sanity, he'll pretend it didn't-- “And there's no awkwardness here, okay? We're good.”

 

“Okay. Okay, we're good.” Harry looks relieved, but still a little embarrassed. “Do you want breakfast?”

 

“Yes, please. Thank God I don't have work today.”

 

Harry flicks on the coffee machine and opens the fridge.

 

“If you're looking for eggs and bacon, I could kiss you.” 

 

“Actually, I was going to make pancakes,” Harry says, which yes. Louis' mouth is watering. He really needs to marry this boy.

 

“Oh my God, you're incredible, Harry. Yes, pancakes sound amazing.”

 

Louis sits at the island and scrolls through his Twitter feed while Harry bustles around in the kitchen.  “Hey, does your back hurt from last night? Mine wrecks like crazy.”

 

“No, but I have the worst crick in my neck. Next time, we should really use the bed.”

 

Louis forces himself not to look up, but his smile is practically splitting his face in two. “Yeah, next time we'll use the bed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave kudos or comments if you like :)


	4. IV.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziam meet, the group go clubbing and there's some much needed relief from the sexual tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer, I don't own One Direction, Radio 1 or any affiliates. Enjoy the chapter :)

 

 **IV.**   **[Louis]**

 

On the day that marks two and half months since Harry and Louis met, Eleanor greets Louis at the reception desk with a wan smile.

 

It's been two and half months of cute texts, endless movie nights together and sharing beds and sofa and other sleep implements. It's been two and a half months of Louis visiting Harry at the ice cream parlour and spending hours together when the parlour isn't busy. It's been two and half months of Harry surprising Louis at the radio station. It's been two and a half months of a fun friendship that wavers on the border between platonic and romantic and Louis is going crazy with the need to cross the border. 

 

Louis smiles at Eleanor. “You look tired,” He notes.

 

She yawns and glares at him. “It's not even six in the morning yet.” 

 

“So? That's nothing new for you. Did you work late?” Louis leans against the desk and watches as she sorts through a sizeable amount of paperwork. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that she's watching Game of Thrones on the computer while she works. 

 

“Yeah, I had to create an ad campaign for this new scheme the BBC is doing. It launches tomorrow.” 

 

Curiosity peaks. Louis raises his eyebrows. “So do I get to hear what this scheme is?” 

 

“Yeah, I guess there's no harm. The BBC are doing a new thing. They're running an internship programme. They're offering places for interns to come and work here, unpaid, for a few months. If, at the end of the internship, the station manager is impressed by the potential of the intern, they're offered a full position here.”

 

Louis is intrigued. The first thing that jumps to mind is Harry, telling him that he'd done radio work in college and enjoyed it and really, this is becoming a problem. Louis is in severe danger of falling for this boy.

 

“Really? They're offered a full position, on the air?” 

 

“Well. Not necessarily as a radio personality, although there is a position open for that. They're going to take in interns to do work in all sorts of fields. Technicians, producers, assistants.” 

 

“How many positions will be open, at the end of the internship?” 

 

“It's not a case of competing for spots, it's all about impressing the station manager. If Terry Wilkos likes the intern, they're in.” Eleanor pauses. “Of course, it's not going to be a walk in the park. Interns would be undergoing mostly paperwork and coffee rounds. There would be limited proper work.” 

 

“And they're choosing interns how? Auditions?” 

 

Eleanor snorts. “If by auditions, you mean interviews, then yes. The application form will be on the BBC website.” 

 

Louis wonders whether it's his place to mention this to Harry. He said he'd been on the radio in college and he has a gorgeous radio voice. He pushes it to the back of his mind and bids goodbye to Eleanor, making his way to his studio. 

 

It's a good show, one of those that's more chatting than music. He reviews a film he'd seen in the cinema lately, ‘Into the Woods.’ He'd seen it with Harry, actually. They'd intended to make fun of it, but ended up leaving the theatre guiltily satisfied and the tune of the songs still in their heads. He said as much on air, knowing that Harry would be listening. 

 

As expected, his phone buzzes with a text seconds later, from Harry, with lyrics from the film he'd just been speaking about, _into the woods to grandmother's house! into the woods to grandmother's house!_  

 

“And on that note,” Louis half-laughs, “I'll play the opening song of that movie for you and we'll take a short break. See you in a bit.” 

 

Liam the technician trundles into the room with a cart loaded with cables and crap Louis would be useless with. “I liked that movie,” He says. “Emily Blunt is hot.” 

 

“I was personally offended that Johnny Depp got about six seconds of screen time,” Louis pouts. “Such a gorgeous face gone to waste.”

 

Liam laughs. He eyes the framed quote on Louis' windowsill. “But the heart has its own memory and I have forgotten nothing,” he recites carefully. “That bear any significant meaning for you?”

 

Louis coughs. Liam backpedals quickly, hurrying to say, “Sorry, that's none of my business. It's probably nothing. Not nothing! I mean obviously it means something to you. I'm presuming, unless it's just a quote from your favourite book?” 

 

“Take your foot out of your mouth,” Louis smiles. “It means something to me, but...it's a story for another day.”

 

“Of course.” Liam blushes. Then, he blurts, “You know, Sophia and I broke up.”

 

Louis' eyes widen. “I'm sorry, Li. Was it a mutual decision?”

 

Liam sighs. “No, it was my decision. Things had been stilted for weeks.”

Louis glances at the timer. There's thirty seconds left until he has to go back on air. “I'm still sorry. Break ups are never easy."

 

Liam smiled. “Thanks.”

 

His producer signals wildly and noting the On Air sign that has just lit up, Louis shoves his headphones on and exclaim jovially into the microphone, “Welcome back! Judging by the time on my trusty watch, a lot of you kids will be heading off to school. Well, try not to kill yourself and I'll put on one of the favourites with the youngsters, but before that, I'd like to invite one Zayn Malik to coffee at noon...” 

 

\---

 

Louis has a crush on Harry.

 

He's accepted that, and it wouldn't be so bloody hard to try and move past it if Harry weren't such a fan of mixed signals. 

 

There are furtive smiles sometimes, when they share a private joke. Harry's slept over on several occasions. Most of which involve watching TV until their eyes burn and then the two fall into bed together and Louis pretends it means nothing.  Sometimes Harry fumbles his words when he's too close to Louis. His touch makes Louis' skin erupt with goosebumps and his tummy butterflies are accustomed to Harry and they fire up constantly. 

 

But then Harry also flirts with all the customers at Ice Palace. He is either oblivious to Louis' come-ons or politely ignores them and he often refers to Louis as ‘pal’ and ‘mate’. So Louis. Louis just doesn't know.

 

\---

 

“You know,” Zayn said over a cinnamon dusted cappuccino, “That barista's been ogling your bum since we came in.” 

 

“As he should, it's a fine specimen.” Louis sips his coffee delicately. He wishes he'd thought to order a croissant. 

 

They're at Starbucks, which Louis and Zayn both rate as inferior to Costa, but Costa was packed and they decided to come here instead.

 

“Seriously, look.” 

 

Louis cranes his head. Recognition sparks at the good looking man behind the counter. “I met him a while ago. Aaron, I think.” 

 

“He's cute.”

 

“You're engaged!” Louis fakes outrage dramatically, a hand to his heart. “You are to be wed to one of my best friends! You scoundrel, you rogue! How dare your roaming, bisexual eyes meet the--”

 

“Oh, give it up,” Zayn scoffs, slapping his arm so he spills coffee over the table. “I'm engaged, not bound by blood. And he's cute. Did you notice?” 

 

“Of course I noticed, I'm not dead!” 

 

“No,” Zayn smirks, “Just Harry smitten.”  

 

Louis is outraged, really. Must everyone plague him? So he has a crush on Harry, so bloody what? 

 

“Give it up, Z. Harry doesn't want me back.” His heart aches twists in his chest at the thought. 

 

And what if Harry never wants him back? What if Louis pines around for endless months, wanting Harry's touch? Well, fuck that. “Fuck you. I'm going to go say hello to Aaron, you well dressed bastard.”

 

Louis gets up and walks over to the barista, his hips swaying. He'll be damned if he lets his stupid, unrequited crush on Harry stop him from doing what he does best: pulling.

 

 

\---

 

**[Zayn]**

 

Zayn's just swivelled in his seat to watch Louis try to fool himself into pulling another guy when he's so clearly smitten with Harry, when the door of the coffee house opens and in walks...possibly the most beautiful specimen ever to grace the planet.

 

After Perrie, of course, he amends himself quickly, as he guiltily tries to push that thought away. 

 

But really, the guy is gorgeous. He's tall, broad shoulders with short chestnut hair and the kind of open face that makes Zayn think he looks like a puppy dog. He's muscular too, and could probably lift Zayn up--

 

Jesus. Zayn buries his head in his hands and fills his heads with thoughts of Perrie. Perrie in the shower, Perrie's smile, Perrie--

 

“Liam!” The shout comes from the other side of the café. Louis is waving hysterically at the cute brunette boy. He bounds over and yes, Louis knows him, they have a mutual connection and Zayn can--

  
_Can what?_ demands a voice in his head, a voice that sounds like Perrie. 

 

“Zayn, you remember Liam. A technician at the radio station.” Louis is saying and yes, he remember meeting him before when he visited Lou at work. “Liam, this catalogue boy is Zayn. He makes everyone look like Godzilla, don't worry.” 

 

Zayn smiles up at Liam. “I'm not actually a catalogue boy.”

 

“Could've fooled me,” Liam says. Zayn blushes. He meets Louis' eyes and his friend is looking at him with a mix of confusion and sternness. “Louis, don't let us keep you. I can see you have a suitor in waiting.” He gestures at Aaron, whose eyes are fixated on Louis' formidable bum. 

 

Zayn tugs on his friend's arm. “What about Harry?” 

 

Liam perks up. “You like Harry? The curly haired lad who comes down to visit you?” 

 

Louis shoots Zayn a look that would probably have equal effects to that of the Avada Kedavra curse. 

 

“Thanks, Zayn. That cat was just dying to be let out of the bag.” He glanced back at Aaron, and waved him over. He practically tripped over his feet to obey. 

 

He was good looking, Zayn observed. Nothing next to Liam, of course, and nowhere near good enough for Louis, but he's seen his best friend settle for worse.

 

“Aaron, these are my friends, Zayn and Liam. This is Aaron, I met him the other week when I was doing a coffee run. He listens to Radio 1.”

 

They make small talk until Aaron's absence is noted. He hurriedly returns to his post, shooting looks at Louis as he goes.

 

“He's got a crush on you, Lou,” Zayn says. 

 

“Please,” Louis snorts. Then he winks. “Doesn't everyone?” 

 

Liam laughs. Zayn checks his mouth for drool, because his laugh is just so fucking pretty.

 

Louis slides in beside Zayn in the booth and nudges him. “How's my Pezza?”

 

That jolts Zayn back to reality. “She's great. She told me to tell you to come over to our place tomorrow. She says she's got wine and Game of Thrones.”

 

“Sold,” grinned Louis.

 

“Perrie?” Liam asks politely. Zayn almost, for some unfathomable reason, doesn't want to tell him about her. 

 

“Zayn's fiancée,” supplied Louis, shooting a strange look at Zayn when he hesitated to respond. Usually Zayn jumps at the chance to wax poetic about Perrie. 

 

“Oh, the university friend that got you into radio, Lou?” Liam says.

 

“The very same.”

 

“Listen, I should get in line for a coffee. Save me a seat?” Liam smiles before he joins the queue. Louis takes one more curious look at Zayn, and gestures towards the counter. “Aaron's on break. I'm gonna go chat for a bit.” 

 

As soon as he leaves, Zayn buries his face in his hands. What the hell? He's never reacted so strongly to anyone except Perrie before, but Liam had his hormones going crazy. He must be incredibly horny or something, because he has to actually _remind_ himself that he loves his fiancée. 

 

He can't tell Louis about this out of the blue attraction. Perrie is Louis' oldest friend, he'd slit his throat with his bare hands. It's probably only a fleeting attraction. He'll make love to Perrie later and it'll be okay.

 

Liam slides into Louis' vacated seat with a latté and a blueberry muffin. He has another cup in his hand and this he pushes in Zayn's direction.

 

“I saw yours was nearly empty, so I bought you another. Caramel frapp, right?” Liam's cheeks redden. 

 

He nods, dumbstruck. “Thanks,” is all he manages. Liam shrugs. 

 

“So if you're not a catalogue boy, what do you do?”

 

“I'm a Teacher's Assistant,” Zayn sips his drink. It tastes even more delicious than usual. “In a local high school.” 

 

“You don't look the teacher type,” Liam says thoughtfully. 

 

“So I've been told. What do you do?” He eyes Liam's bulging muscles. Professional boxer? Fireman? Athlete?

 

The brunette's eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I'm a technician at Radio 1, remember?”

 

Zayn wants to kick himself. How dumb is he? “Right, sorry.”

 

Liam is not deterred, however. Wrapping his hands around his mug, he says, “Louis tells me you like to eat at that Italian place downtown?”

 

Zayn doesn't know why Louis would have revealed this snippet of information to his technician (what kind of conversation was that?) but he'll take the bait and run with it. “Yeah, yeah. Louis doesn't like the owner, though. They had a disagreement a few months ago over the shellfish, which Louis said was underdone. Stefano didn't agree. And well, you know Louis. He got himself banned from the restaurant.”

 

Liam barks a laugh into his coffee. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” Then a few seconds of silence later, “I like Italian.” 

 

Zayn's eyes widen. Is this a hint or a casual fact? “You'd probably like Stefano's then,” he remarks lightly. 

 

“I probably would. But I'd need a companion. A man can't go to a restaurant alone, it's just sad.”

 

“Well,” Zayn begins before he can talk himself out of it. “I could go with you.”

 

The corner of Liam's mouth tilts upwards. “You could.”

 

“If only to save you from the embarrassment of having to go alone.” 

 

“I owe you one, then.”

 

“You can pay for dinner.” 

 

“Tonight?”

 

“I'm free.”

 

“Tonight it is then.”

 

They laugh. The bells above the door to the café chime. Both boys look up, more out of reflex than interest, but Zayn perks up.

 

“Harry!” He beams, as the tall, lanky boy steps inside. Liam waves him over. He spots them sitting at the corner table and waves back.

 

“Hey, guys,” Harry says cheerfully.

 

“I didn't know you came here, Harry,” Zayn says. Harry slides into the booth and sits next to Liam, his hands tucked into his pockets.

 

“I don't, but Louis told me about it, so I figured; why not check it out?” The tips of his ears have turned red, though, and Zayn is sure it has nothing to do with the cold. 

 

“And your impromptu visit has nothing to do with the fact that Louis said on the radio he was coming here after work?” 

 

Harry's entire face turns pink. Zayn has to laugh. 

 

“I think I'm gonna go order a --” he cuts himself off. Zayn swivels in his seat to see what's caught Harry's attention. Harry's eyes are fixed on Louis, leaning against the counter, talking animatedly to Aaron. His stance is definitely flirty, and Zayn has known Louis long enough to know when he's turning on the charm. But he doesn't need to--Aaron is shooting him lustful looks and he has a hand running up Lou's arm.

 

Zayn turns back to Harry, whose face has turned hard. His fingers clutch the edge of the table and he glares at the barista touching Louis. “Who is that?” He demands.

 

“Aaron,” Zayn supplies, taking note of Harry's obvious jealousy so he can tell Louis later and watch him try not to grin stupidly. “He's Louis' friend.” 

 

“Looks like they're more than friends,” The curly haired boy mutters. He orders himself a coffee, but any conversation with him is fruitless, because every few seconds he's glancing back up Louis. 

 

Zayn wishes they'd just fuck, already. 

 

A loud laugh pierces the calm atmosphere of the café. It's Louis' laugh, and Harry nearly knocks over his coffee.

 

“Harry,” Liam says quietly, “Lou doesn't even know you're here. Why don't you go up and say hi? He'd be happy to see you.” 

 

Harry frowns. “I'm not sure he would be.”

 

But then Louis laughs again and Harry stands up abruptly. “I'm going to say hi to Lou.”

 

“I thought you might,” Louis says lightly. Zayn stifles a giggle. 

 

He watches Harry crowd into Louis' space and place a possessive hand on his waist. 

 

“I don't suppose you brought popcorn?” Liam jokes. Zayn laughs. 

 

 

\---

 

**[Louis]**

 

Aaron is in the middle of a story that is really not that funny (and, Louis suspects, not true) but he laughs anyway. He's in the middle of the punch line, when Harry pushes into his space and wraps an arm around his waist, grinning at Louis. 

 

“Hi, Lou!”

 

Louis blinks. “Um. Hi.” 

 

“I missed you,” Harry says affectionately, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Louis is absolutely bewildered. They've always been a tactile pair with no respect for the personal bubble, but even for Harry, this is going a bit far. 

 

Louis smiles, but draws back a little to get a look into Harry's eyes. They're fierce with determination and...is he _jealous?_

 

“You didn't say you had a boyfriend, Louis.” Aaron's tone was a little accusatory. And hey now, Louis won't be the bad guy here.

 

“Um, I don't, really.” Harry's arm tightens around his waist. Louis' whole neck is flushing. “This is Harry, a friend of mine.”

 

Harry nods to Aaron, then his attention fixes on Louis. “You wanna go clubbing tonight?”

 

Louis is too frazzled to even comprehend what Harry is saying. Eventually, he gets hold of his tongue. “Um. I can't tonight, I have plans with Perrie.” 

 

“Tomorrow, then,” He insists. Aaron backs away, and awkwardly begins scrubbing an already clean counter. 

 

“Sure, tomorrow.” 

 

Louis doesn't realise it's happening until it's happened, but Harry has been gradually tugging him from the counter and the next thing he knows he's being pushed down beside Zayn at their table, who looks just as stunned as himself at Harry's little display. 

 

Harry settles down across from and tucks into a pastry. Louis waits a few seconds, before he blurts, “What was that?” 

 

He looks up, crumbs dusted across his lips. He smiles nonchalantly. “What was what?” 

 

\---

 

Louis turns up at Zayn and Perrie's with a bottle of wine. 

 

“Oh my,” she says, as she sees him clutching the alcohol. “It's that sort of night?”

 

“Where's Zayn?” Louis asks, stepping inside. 

 

“He's out with your technician, Liam.”

 

Louis' eyebrows furrow. He saw the way Zayn was jittering when Liam was around. He only got like that when he was attracted to someone, something that shouldn't be happening when the wedding date was fast approaching. He pushed the thought from his mind, ashamed it had even entered it. He knew Zayn and he would never look at anyone but Perrie.

 

“Any progress on the Harry movement?” Perrie and himself collapse on the sofa, where the opening credits of Game of Thrones is already playing. 

 

Louis opens the bottle of wine--it was one of those cheap ones with the screw on caps--and drinks straight from the bottle. He offers it to Perrie, who takes a delicate sip.

 

“I don't fucking know. I mean, he flirts with other guys and then he acts jealous. All I know is I want to kiss him a lot. Maybe all of the time.” 

 

Perrie shoots him a sympathetic look. “If he doesn't love you, he's stupid. I love you lots, babe.”

 

Louis kisses her cheek. “You're a lot sweeter now than you were in university.”

 

Perrie wiggles her fingers in his face. “A lot's changed. I'm an engaged woman now.”

 

“How are the wedding plans going?” 

 

“They're good. My maid of honour is awful, though. I love my cousin, but she has like, no opinion, on _anything_.  I wish you were my maid of honour.” She ruffles his hair. 

 

“How tipsy are you? Because babe, last time I checked, I don't have tits.” 

 

She giggles. “You know what I mean. You're one of my oldest friends. I've known you what, seven years?”

 

“Do you remember how we met?” Louis smiles. “We were on the same floor in uni.” 

 

“And I locked myself out.”

 

“And you were desperate for a wee.”

 

“So I let you use my bathroom.”

 

“And the rest is history!” They say in unison, giggling. Louis looks down and they've polished off three quarters of the wine bottle. 

 

“I introduced you to Zayn,” Louis says, “So really, I am a very deserved best man.”

 

“Thanks, Cupid,” Perrie grins. “So, when is it my turn to play matchmaker for you and Harry?”

 

Louis falls silent for a moment, remembering how Harry acted this afternoon, how he acted like Louis was his. 

 

“Harry mentioned how he didn't like his job to me, once,” He says, the words slipping out without his permission, “How he was on the radio team in uni. And Eleanor told me there's an opening for an internship at Radio 1.” 

 

Perrie blinks. “You think he'd want an internship?” 

 

“I don't know,” Louis says, “Do you?”

 

“Babe, I don't know him very well,” She says quietly. “But I know he'd appreciate if you asked him.”

 

“You don't think it'd be too forward?”

 

“I think,” Perrie says slowly, as if she's carefully planning her words, “I think he's crazy about you.”

 

Louis can't stop the smile that spreads across his face. “That wasn't what I asked.”

 

“But it answers your question anyway, yeah?”

 

Before he can reply, his phone buzzes against his thigh. It's Harry. His stomach twists pleasantly.

 

_Niall and me are clubbing tomorrow. Would love if you came xx_

 

Louis cuddles into Perrie. Maybe Harry likes him after all.

 

 

\---

 

 

There's no way Harry likes him. 

 

He's draped all over some redhead, and they're dancing obscenely and Jesus, fuck, Louis feels humiliated.

 

Zayn had asked to tag along, which nobody had any objections to. He and Zayn spent hours picking out his clothes for clubbing, crazy enough to think that maybe tonight would be the night Louis finally just kisses Harry like he's been wanting to.   _I'm going to kiss him_ ,  he kept repeating to himself like a mantra. 

 

But as soon as they'd gotten to the club, Harry had broken away and found a dancing partner. Jesus, Louis was so fucking stupid. Harry didn't like him, Perrie was _wrong,_  because if he did how could he invite Louis out and then grind against some other guy?

 

“Hey.” There's a voice in his ear and it's Niall. “You don't look like you're having much fun.”

 

“Buy me a drink and maybe I'll start to,” Louis says, plastering a cheeky smile on his face. 

 

Niall snorts. “You're the famous radio broadcaster and I'm buying the drinks.” Nevertheless, he digs in his pocket for change. “What'll you have?” 

 

“A Tequila Sunrise with an umbrella.” 

 

“Umbrella?” Niall asks skeptically.

 

Louis shrugs. “I collect them.”

 

Niall gets himself a mojito and they sit together at the bar, Zayn at his left and Niall to his right. “So,” Niall says, “I'm a boob loving man at a gay club. But what's your excuse for not dancing?” 

 

Zayn snorts and Louis laughs mirthlessly. “I guess...there's nobody I fancy.”

  
_Lies, lies, lies._

“Hmph,” is Zayn says, seeing through his lie like it's glass. 

 

“What about him?” Niall points at a blonde bloke who's giving Louis the eye. “He's been staring at you since you came in.” 

 

“He's decent,” Louis agrees. “You think he's a good shag?”

 

“Maybe. You'll have to find out, won't you?” 

 

Louis slips off his stool. He won't let this crush on Harry defeat him. He's Louis fucking Tomlinson. 

 

He finishes off his drink--liquid courage and all that--before sidling up to the blonde guy. 

 

“Hey,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Dance with me?”

 

\---

 

[Harry]

 

The boy flush against him was named Oliver and he was probably someone Harry would have once loved to take home. But that was before he met Louis.  

 

Louis, God, he'd rather wank to thoughts of Louis than go home with any guy. 

 

He thought it was just a celebrity crush, but it's not anymore. Louis has invaded his life, his thoughts. 

 

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks Oliver, trying to wrench himself away from thoughts of Louis.

 

Oliver looks a little surprised that their dancing is being interrupted, but he nods. “Um. A Tequila Sunrise, please.”

 

Louis' favourite, Harry thinks. 

 

Niall is sitting at the bar alone. Well, not entirely—he's with Zayn—but last time Harry looked, Louis was with them.

 

“Where's Louis?” He asks, before placing his order with the bartender.

 

“Dancing with some bloke,” Niall mutters. Zayn only glares at him, for some reason unbeknownst to Harry. 

 

Harry's heart jumps. He turns sharply and sees Louis pressed up against a blonde guy. His back is flush to the other bloke's chest and his arse is against his crotch. Harry's own cock fills out at the sight of how hot Louis looks. 

 

“How could you let him go?” Harry demands to Niall, quiet enough that Zayn doesn't catch it. “You know how much I like him!”

 

Niall, nonchalant as ever, shrugs. “You were dancing with that other guy. Figured you wouldn't mind if Louis got some of his own.” 

 

The blonde guy has his hands running through Louis' hair. Harry wants to be that guy so much it hurts. A curl of jealousy crawls up his spine and he itches to rip that guy off of _his_ Louis.

 

“You don't mind, do you, Harry?” Zayn pipes up casually, “Since you have your eyes set on someone anyway.”

 

Harry grits his teeth.

 

“He's not good enough for Louis,” Harry spits out bitterly. That guy gets to touch Louis, gets to run his hands all over him and he doesn't even know how lucky he is. It's so fucking unfair.

 

“Who made you the judge of who's good enough for Louis?” Zayn shoots back. “Louis--your friend.”

 

“And who made you Yoda?” Harry huffs.

 

“Your bloke's waiting.” Niall says quickly, nodding across the room. 

 

He tears his eyes away from the sight of Louis long enough to catch a glimpse of an impatient looking Oliver, leaning against the wall.

 

“Harry, can I talk to you a sec?” Zayn doesn't wait for an answer before pulling Harry by the elbow over to an empty corner. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“You should know something about Louis,” Zayn says quietly. “I've known him years. He doesn't let his guard down to just anybody. If he falls, he falls hard.”

 

Harry swallows. Could Zayn be implying...? “What does that mean?”

 

“I know how he feels about you. I'm just scared it's going to happen again.” 

 

Harry's mind is racing with questions. What's going to happen again? How is it possible that he's getting this lecture when he hasn't even done anything? But he asks the question that sticks out most prominently. “How--how does he feel about me?”

 

Zayn hesitates. “Well, that's for him to say. But he's had his heart broken before,” he continues, “Which really really sucked, because he's the greatest person I know. I'm just saying--please don't hurt him.” 

 

“We're...” Harry struggles to get his words unjumbled, “We're not like together or anything. We're friends.”

 

“Maybe it's better that way. Louis' your friend. You two have a great relationship. This way it's less complicated, it's simple. Do you really want to potentially fuck up things with Louis by adding--I don't know, feelings and shit?” He swirls his drink around in the glass. “Hey. I love Louis, okay? But I like you too. I don't think you or anyone, for that matter, would be happy if things went sour between you two. Keep it simple, why don't you?” 

 

Harry understands Zayn, he really does. It makes a lot of sense, but still he thinks he'd give anything just for a kiss with Louis. 

 

“I'll um. I'll keep that in mind.” Casting one last bitter look at Louis, he returns to Oliver, his head swirling. Did that really just happen? 

 

“You were a while,” He says. 

 

Harry doesn't reply, he just presses himself up against Oliver. But Oliver isn't Louis. He isn't Louis.

 

Eventually, after Harry's distracted eyes keep wandering toward Louis, Oliver pulls back. “Harry, I'm getting the sense that I'm a second choice, here.”

 

There's no point in denying it. “Sorry. You're really fit and everything, it's just--there's someone else.”

 

_LouisLouisLouis._

 

Oliver, to his credit, seems remarkably unfazed. “Is he here? Point him out to me.”

 

“He's the most gorgeous guy in the room.” Harry's eyes flicker toward Louis, who may as well be glued to the blonde guy, he's in such close proximity. Oliver followed his gaze.

 

“Holy shit! He does the breakfast show on Radio 1! Something Tomlinson...”

 

“Louis,” Harry supplies. 

 

“You fancy him then?” At Harry's nod, Oliver shrugs. “Don't mean to offend, but he's way out of your league.” 

 

Harry shrinks back as if he's been hit. “You think so?”

 

“You seem like you run in different circles.” 

 

“I suppose we do.” Harry feels anger bleed through his words, because what the hell does this guy know? He knows nothing about Louis, or him.

 

“Come home with me,” Oliver pleads. “I'll show you a good time. Make you forget his name.” 

 

Harry highly doubts that, but he's craving human contact, so he pushes into Oliver's space and kisses him. His lips are rough, and his stubble burns Harry's jaw. But it's still good, it's still a kiss. 

 

He pulls back and perhaps reflexively, he looks for Louis. But he's no longer pressed up against the blondie, he's nowhere to be seen. His eyes meet Niall's, who nods at the exit. Harry whirls around and sees Louis ducking out of the club. 

 

He thinks his heart might burst out of its cage, it's hammering so hard. He breaks free of Oliver and makes his way over to Niall, who looks bored out of his tree and is finishing off the Tequila Sunrise that Harry bought and never gave to Oliver. 

 

“Where's Louis?” He asks, trying to sound casual but ends up sounding mostly upset.

 

“He left.”

 

He knew that, but it hurts anyway. “Why?” 

 

Zayn butts in, his tone sharp. “Guess he got tired of seeing you go off with that guy, paying no attention to him after you invited him here.” 

 

His words make Harry feel nauseous. _Fuck_.  He runs a hand through his sweaty curls. “Will you guys be okay for a lift home?”

 

“You're going after Louis?” 

 

“I have to, Niall.” Harry wishes Zayn wouldn't give him that look. Not judgemental, but...warning. “I want him so much.”

 

“We'll get a taxi,” Niall assures him, patting his arm. “Hope it works out, H.”

 

“Me too,” Harry agrees, and with that he's running out the door. He looks around, but Louis is nowhere in sight. He figures he took a taxi home, so he hails one himself and recites Louis' address to the driver.

 

He can't stop thinking about what Zayn said. He seemed to be scared that Harry would break Louis' heart,--which he most definitely would not--but Louis would have to have feelings for him for that to happen, right?

 

He needs Louis, he needs him so much.

 

He's just the right sort of drunk; drunk enough that he's built up the courage to do this, but not so drunk that he won't remember it tomorrow. Because if it works out, it would definitely be something Harry wants to remember. 

 

The taxi pulls up to the path in front of Louis' apartment block. It's only after he's paid the driver and gotten out that he realises that he has no idea what he's going to say to Louis.

 

He tries not to think about that as he buzzes Louis' flat number. After no answer, he buzzes again. And again. And again.

 

“Fuck!” He swears. Why isn't Louis answering? 

 

He sits down on the steps, pondering what to do. He hears footsteps and he looks up. He lights up with surprise when he realises who it is.

 

“Grimmy!” 

 

Nick blinks. “Harry?”

 

“You live in this apartment complex?”  Harry doesn't know why he's surprised. This complex provides easy access to the BBC studio. 

 

Nick nods and toes at a pebble lying on the ground. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Harry realises how pathetic he must look, sitting outside the building, pouting. “I'm um...Louis isn't answering...”

 

Apparently Nick takes pity on the pathetic because he hoists him up off the steps and lets himself and Harry into the building with his key. 

 

They get into the lift, and after it stopped at Nick's floor, Nick turns around, offers Harry a smile.

 

“If he's not home, my flat is directly below his. You seem a little out of it and you can't be out on the streets in your state. I'd be afraid you'd get arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct.” Nick smirks. 

 

“Just because I'd fail a breathalyser right now, Grimmy, doesn't mean I'm a danger to citizens.” But Harry grins and thanks him and heads up the stairs to Louis' flat. 

 

When he comes to a stop outside the door, he pauses. What the hell is he going to say? _Hey, Louis, I want to fuck you kind of a lot. Can I come in?_  But he has no time to think about it because his fist has already lifted itself and knocked.

 

There's silence for a beat, before Louis' voice calls out, “Zayn?” 

 

Harry shakes his head before remembering that Louis can't see him. “No,” he says, “It's me, Louis.”

 

Another silence, this one considerably longer than the last.

It's interrupted by the clear sound of a key twisting in a lock. Harry doesn't have time to breathe before Louis is standing in front of him, looking gorgeous and--upset.

 

Harry's reaching out before he can stop himself. “Are you okay, Lou?” 

 

Louis doesn't answer. “What are you doing here, H?”

 

“You left early,” Harry blurts. “Why'd you leave?”

 

Again, Louis doesn't answer. He steps back and gestures into the flat. “Come in.”

 

Harry does. He hears Louis shut the door. “Why'd you leave?” He asks again quietly. 

 

“You seemed busy with your friend.”

 

“I didn't want you to leave.” Because he didn't, never wants Louis to leave. Always wants Louis to stay. 

 

“Sorry,” Louis mutters, but it sounds insincere, even through Harry's more-than-tipsy haze. 

 

“Why'd you leave?” He asks again, sounding pitifully desperate. All he wants is to pull Louis in and kiss him. Louis turns around and leans against the kitchen counter and no, that won't do, Harry wants to see his pretty _face_. “Louis? Why did you leave?”

 

“Because seeing you with someone else sucked!” Louis shouts, whirling around. His initial anger gives way to shock as he claps a hand over his mouth. “Jesus. I'm so sorry, Harry, I didn't want to freak you out—”

 

Harry's ears are ringing. He crosses the room and Louis visibly flinches, but Harry wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him like he's been wanting to so badly. 

 

Louis freezes and for one terrifying second Harry thinks he's misinterpreted the signals, but then he kisses him back, his arms wrapping around Harry's waist. Louis wastes no time in letting his tongue slips into his mouth. Harry makes a muffled sound into Louis' mouth and tightens his grip on his waist. 

 

Louis pulls back a little, but he's still close enough to press small kisses to Harry's lips and Harry thinks he's died and gone to heaven. “I hate that you invited me out and left me and kissed someone else.” But there's no heat behind the words.

 

“I'm sorry, babe,” Harry says breathlessly. “But I'm kissing you now.”

 

“Fuck yeah, you are.” Louis pushes his mouth back to Harry desperately. “Fuck, you're so hot.”

 

He barely registers Louis jumping in time to catch him. His hands settle under the other boy's glorious arse and Louis' legs wrap around his hips. He backs Louis into the wall and licks into his mouth, groaning when Louis curls his hands into Harry's hair. 

 

“Been wanting to fuck you for ages,” Harry murmurs, “You're so gorgeous, Lou.”

 

“Mm, same, babe,” Louis says, and it comes out shakily because Harry has taken that moment to squeeze his arse. 

 

After God knows how many minutes of making out, Louis pulls back. Harry whines and chases his lips, but the feathery haired boy holds him back with a hand on his chest. Harry opens his mouth to complain, but closes it again when he sees Louis fall to his knees and fiddle with the buckle of Harry's belt.

 

“Shit,” Harry swears. His cock had started to fill out from all the kissing, but the sight of Louis on his knees is significantly speeding up the process. “Jesus, Lou.”

 

“I want to suck your cock.”

 

Harry closes his eyes, because is this really happening? “That allowed,” He says. “Let's put your cocksucking skills to the test.”

 

“They're very good,” Louis grins. Smug little bastard. “Are you sure you want to do this? You might get quite attached to me.”

 

“Too late,” Harry replies, “Already attached.”

 

He shrugs, but he's smiling. “I guess there's no harm in it then.” And he pulls down Harry's jeans,  letting them pool at his ankles. Harry kicks them off and breaths a loud sigh as Louis kisses his cock through his briefs.

 

“Lou, please,” he begs.

 

Louis, thankfully, pulls his underwear off and tosses it aside. He kisses the head of Harry's cock, and Harry winds a hand through his hair.

 

He spends a few torturous seconds kitten licking the head, which is slick with precome. Just as Harry's about to beg for his mouth, it engulfs his cock in warm, wet heat.

 

 “Louis,” he gasps. 

 

Louis bobs his head, his tongue dragging along the underside of Harry's cock. His eyes flicker upwards to meet Harry's, the sight of Louis with his mouth full of cock, _Harry's_ cock, enough to make him close to coming, and Harry thinks he's going to die.

 

“Louis, fuck,” He hisses, looking down and seeing that Louis is palming himself through his jeans. “You're so good.”

 

Louis pulls off for air and winks. He barely gives himself time to breathe before he's taken Harry back in his mouth, as far as he can without gagging. 

 

Harry tightens his fingers in Louis' hair. It's _Louis_ , and Harry doesn't think he's going to last very long.

 

Louis' cheeks hollow out as he sucks Harry. “Fuck, you look incredible,” He says, “Made for sucking cock, weren't you? You're so fucking good at it.”

 

Louis whines at that, and the vibrations around his cock cause Harry to release a loud moan of his own. He feels a familiar uncoiling in his gut, and he throws his head back to meet the wall. “Louis, I'm going to come.” He can barely get the words out.

 

He expects Louis to pulls off and bring him to orgasm with his hand, but Louis keeps going as if he hasn't said anything at all. One more flick of his tongue and Harry lets out a loud whine, and he's coming in Louis' mouth, his hips bucking and his grip on Louis' hair tight.

 

When Harry opens his eyes, Louis is red-faced and desperately palming over his cock.

 

“Jesus,” Harry gasps out. “Give me a second and I'll do you.”

 

Louis nods and lets Harry recover from possibly one of the best orgasms of his life. Eventually, Harry shakes off the post-orgasm haze and bends down to kiss Louis.

 

“Let me get you off, sweetheart,” Harry says, “Make you feel good.”

 

He takes Louis by the hand and drags him towards the bedroom. They collapse on the bed, kissing and Harry's hands come to rest on Louis' arse. 

 

Louis stands up and strips off his clothes, before falling back onto Harry and reattaching their lips. Harry squeezes Louis' bare arse and moans. The feel of it has his cock stirring weakly. 

 

“There's lube in the drawer,” Louis gasps out, as Harry's fingers ghost along his crack, rubbing over his hole. “'M so hard. Want you to finger me, babe. Make me come.” 

 

Harry reaches for the lube, wanting to finger Louis, wanting to do anything as long as it's with Louis. He slides a hand in between them and grabs Louis' hard cock, tugging at it slowly as he slicks his fingers up with lube. 

 

“On your belly for me, love,” Harry says, with a last squeeze to Louis' bum. When Louis' lying on his stomach, Harry kisses his arse and his wet fingers press against his hole. Louis' breath hitches.

 

“Harry, come on,” He groans. “Please.”

 

“Your sounds are so pretty,” Harry mumbles absently. His finger pushes into Louis' hole and he gasps. Louis' tight heat envelopes his finger and he wants to feel it around his cock so badly, but he thinks his cock is spent for the night. 

 

“Give me another,” Louis pleads, pushing back on the finger, “Please, I can take it.”

 

Harry adds a second finger alongside the first. Louis lets out a loud whine and his arse pushes back. He looks fucking gorgeous all spread out like this.

 

“You look incredible, Lou,” Harry tells him, “All desperate for my fingers up your arse. It's so fucking hot.”

 

Louis moans again. “Feels so good,” He almost wails. “Feels so good, Harry.”

 

He's rocking down on the bed, searching for friction on his cock. Harry wants to make him come like this, with his fingers deep in his arse. “Lift up a little, babe.”

 

Louis does so, and Harry reaches under him for his cock. When he finds it, he tugs on it, which makes Louis let out a loud “ _fuuuck.”_

 

He curls his fingers in Louis' arse and Louis practically screams, arching up. “Fuck! Harry! It feels so fucking good, I'm so fucking close, don't stop. Fuck, I'm coming, Harry!” 

 

Louis lets out a half-moan, half-sob as his hole clenches around his fingers and he rocks his dick into Harry's fist, coming all over his hand. 

 

He slumps to the bed, exhausted, but satisfied. Harry's collapses beside him, and presses a kiss to his lips.

 

“That was really good,” Louis mumbles softly.

 

“Really good,” Harry echoes. “Shower or sleep?”

 

“Ugh.” Louis buries his head in the pillow. “Sleep. Definitely sleep.”

 

Harry drags the duvet over the both of them and throws a lazy arm over Louis' waist. 

 

“G'night,” Louis says sleepily. Harry's heart tugs in his chest. He fondly brushes the hair off Louis' forehead and settles in. 

 

“Goodnight,” he echoes. 

 

\----

 

Some hours later, Louis rolls into Harry's space and startles him awake.

 

“Louis?” He whispers, but he's still asleep, his face pressed into Harry's neck. Harry doesn't want to move Louis, but his throat is patched and he's in dire need of a glass of water. 

 

Gently, he shifts the other boy just enough to allow Harry to slip out from under the covers. He hisses as his feet meet the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. After helping himself to a glass of water, he sits down the kitchen island.

 

God. He just had sex with Louis.

 

A broad grin creeps onto his face as he remembers the events that unfolded only a few hours before. 

 

But then, for some unfathomable reason, Zayn's words from earlier come flooding back to him. 

 

_Do you really want to potentially fuck up things with Louis by adding--I don't know, feelings and shit?_

_If he falls, he falls hard._

 

Having shrugged off his drunk haze, the words hit him more clearly. They writhe into Harry's mind and turn the cogs in his brain.

 

He just slept with Louis. What does that mean?

 

 _He's way out of your league_ ,  Oliver had said and God, maybe he was right? Louis and him were completely different. He was enjoying himself with Louis, did he really want to fuck that up?

 

_Do you really want to potentially fuck up things with Louis by adding--I don't know, feelings and shit?_

 

Harry finishes the glass of water and staggers back to bed, his mind swirling. He's going have a debilitating headache if he doesn't get back to sleep soon.

 

_If he falls, he falls hard._

 

Is it worth it to complicate things with Louis, Harry wonders. He likes Louis a lot, but he doesn't want to lose him.

 

_He's way out of your league._

 

Should he keep it casual? Less room for heartache, especially if what Zayn said was true and Louis had just had his heart broken. 

 

He slips back under the duvet, his arms itching to reach out and cuddle Louis close.

 

He doesn't. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is appreciated!


	5. V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry establish their status and Gemma sends a wedding invitation.

**V. [Louis]**

 

His alarm doesn't go off, so it's his body clock that wakes him up the next morning.

 

Unfortunately his body clock isn't as efficient as a real one, so when he sits up and turns on his phone, he finds he has exactly twenty two minutes to shower and get dressed before he has to be down at the radio station to go on air.

 

“Shit!” He exclaims, leaping out of bed and giving himself a few seconds to panic before he's running for the shower.

 

The water is freezing because he hasn't turned on the emersion heating, but it'll do for a quick scrub of his hair and a rinse off of his body, smeared in come and stale sweat.

 

He's thankful the water is cold when he starts to remember last night, because it kills any hope of his cock growing hard. 

 

He towels himself off and runs into the bedroom to pull on a pair of boxers. His phone startles to life, vibrating on the dresser.

 

“What, Nick?” He snaps into the phone. “What?” 

 

“I was going to ask you to pick up some breakfast, but judging by the fact that it's fifteen minutes until you go on air, I'm guessing you won't have time.”

 

Louis scoffs and hangs up. He glances down at the bed and sees Harry is still asleep, his curls falling over his eyes. Louis smiles, and then realises he's wasting valuable seconds. 

 

He throws on some clothes, runs a hand through his hair in lieu of combing it and goes back to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

He emerges with his toothbrush dangling from his lips and rips a piece of paper from a magazine lying on his desk. He goes to write a note for Harry, but stops when he sees Harry is starting to wake up.

 

“Louis?” He mumbles, sleepily.

 

“Sorry, babe,” Louis says, but there's a toothbrush muffling his words, so it comes out more like <em> showwy, bay. </em> “I gotta run, I'm so late. You can stay here as long as you want.”

 

Harry slumps back into the bed, moaning. “It's so early, how do you do this?”

 

Louis runs to spit out the toothpaste. “What time is it, Harry?” He calls from the bathroom.

 

Some rustling. “Uh, five forty seven!”

 

Thirteen minutes. Getting down there takes at least ten, and that's on a good day, when traffic is limited.

 

“Louis, I need to talk to you,” Harry says as he's grabbing his keys and wallet. 

 

Louis looks at him, curled under the duvet, his hair tousled. He wants nothing more to call in sick and cuddle up to Harry and chat all day.

 

“I'd love to, babe, believe me, but I'm supposed to be at work like, now. When I get back?”

 

Harry nods and smiles at Louis. “Sure.”

 

Louis smiles back. “All right, well. See you.”

 

“Wait.” Harry calls him back, “Can I have a kiss first?”

 

Louis knows he has no time, but it doesn't stop him for turning back and bringing his lips to Harry's, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 

 

“Harry, don't do this to me when I have to go,” he whines as the other boy pushes his tongue into Louis' mouth. 

 

Harry chuckles and pulls back, slapping at Louis' arse. “Go on, then. See you later.”

 

Louis has to tear himself away from Harry before he's sprinting out the door and throwing himself into his car.

 

\----

 

“Louis!”

 

“Can't talk, El! So late!” Louis yells over his shoulder as he hurtles back Eleanor at reception. He checks his phone. He has forty one seconds. Plenty of time.

 

He bursts into his booth, where Liam is waiting anxiously and drumming his fingers on the windowsill. When he sees Louis, he stands up.

 

“Thank God!” He says, “We thought Nick was going to have to fill in.”

 

“Over my dead body,” Louis huffs out, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. He takes a second to thank God he works in radio and not television, because he's red faced, sweaty and panting like a dog. “Headphones.”

 

He collapses into his revolving seat and chucks his headphones over his ears.

 

“Three, two, one—you're on air,” Someone says.

 

“G'morning,” Louis puffs breathlessly into the mic, “It's the Tommo. A tip for the kids—never forget to set your alarm.”

 

Liam chuckles. 

 

“I hope you're all well on this lovely day,” Louis continues, “Well, actually, I'm looking out the window and it's really not lovely. It's chucking it down. Take your umbrellas, folks.”

 

Liam lays a piece of paper on his lap. He picks it up and reads through it quickly.

 

“Breaking news, folks. My technician, dear Liam, has just come in and told me that I have the honour of making this announcement. BBC Radio 1 has just set up a brand new scheme.” Louis presses a button that plays the sound effect of hands clapping in celebration. “Radio 1 are now accepting application forms for internships. That's right; all you aspiring producers, technicians, radio hosts, you can now apply for a summer internship at BBC Radio 1. Application forms are on the website and you must be eighteen or over to apply.” 

 

Louis thinks of Harry. 

 

“With that exciting news out in the open, I'm going to play this brand new hit from Taylor Swift. Catchy tune. Enjoy.” 

 

He plays the song and turns around in his chair to look at Liam. “This internship thing is sick, right?”

 

“My sister's applying,” Liam says. 

 

“I think I might get Harry to apply,” Louis says, “He mentioned doing radio in uni and he hates his job at the ice cream parlour. I just don't know if he'll want to do it.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He wouldn't want to invade my work place,” Louis tells him, “And he wouldn't want me doing him any favours. He's lovely like that.”

 

Louis doesn't realise he's smiling until Liam points it out. “You're a smitten kitten,” Liam grins. 

 

He glows pink as he replays last night's antics in his mind. Diverting the subject quickly, he asks, “What should I play next? Rixton or Katy Perry?”

 

Liam contemplates. “Play one of those songs from that band--1975?”

 

“The 1975,” Louis corrects, “That's from Harry's playlist.”

 

“Of course it is,” Liam smirks. “I should've known.”

 

Louis tells Liam exactly where he can shove it. The Taylor Swift song ends and Louis plays _Chocolate_   by The 1975, accompanied by a shout out to Harry, who is undoubtedly listening. 

 

“Your friend Zayn,” Liam says, his tone careful. “He's dating the blonde girl that comes in here sometimes?”

 

“Perrie,” Louis supplies, “Not dating, engaged. Why do you ask?”

 

“No reason,” Liam mutters. Louis narrows his eyes, but he has no time to speculate because the song has ended and he has to speak into the mic again.

 

“That was Chocolate, by The 1975. We're going to take a short ad break now, and I can practically hear your groans of dismay. See you in a bit.”

 

Louis pulls off his headphones as Nick passes by his cubicle. “Nick! You going out?”

 

He pops his head in. “You want anything?”

 

“Doughnuts. Please?” He bats his eyelashes pleadingly, even though he gets Nick food every single day and is more than entitled to be repaid in deep fried sugary treats. 

 

Nick blows him a sarcastic kiss. “Be back soon, honey! Leave a light on in the window for me!”

 

Louis grins and blows a kiss of his own. “Drive safe, pumpkin!”

 

\---

 

“Eleanor,” Louis calls, approaching the front desk. 

 

“Good show, Lou,” She smiles at him, her hand busy filling out forms of some kind. “You off home?”

 

“Yeah, but first I wanted to ask you something.”

 

She looks up. “Shoot.”

 

“Can I have an application for an internship?”

 

Her lips pull into a wry smile. “Why? Applying?” She jokes.

 

“It's for Harry,” He rushes out, ignoring the way her eyebrows raise. “He mentioned an interest in radio, and I think he'd like it.”

 

“Oh you do, do you?”

 

“Oh, don't sound so smug.” He leans a little closer to her. She smells of vanilla. “You smell like vanilla.”

 

“I spray perfume on my hairbrush,” She tells him, but she's grinning. “What does Harry smell like?”

 

“Mint and grass,” Louis answers, before his brain can catch up to his mouth. Eleanor's laughing and he cuts her off because his cheeks are turning pink. “I slept with him yesterday.”

 

Her whole face morphs into an expression of delight and her thrill is somewhat worrying. “That's great, Lou! Are you two, like...together now? Should I make t-shirts with your faces on?”

 

“I don't know. He said he wants to talk to me when I get back.”

 

“He's going to ask you out!” Eleanor squeals, far too loud for such a quiet building. “I knew you'd make the cutest couple!”

 

Louis tries to fight down the hope rising in his chest, but he fails. “He might just want to be friends with benefits.”

 

 Eleanor put her hands over her ears. “La la la, I don't want to hear it!” She handed him an application. “Get home to your man!” 

 

Louis grinned and ran for his car. Maybe maybe maybe Harry wanted to ask him out. Maybe Harry likes him too.

 

\---

 

When Louis got back to his flat, Harry was hovering over the stove with an apron tied around his body, naked except for a pair of Louis' briefs. 

 

“Jesus fuck,” Louis sighed, and Harry whirled around at the sound of his voice. “I'm only home and you're giving me an erection.”

 

He approached Harry and peered over his shoulder. When he saw the contents of the pan, he squealed with delight. “Pancakes?” 

 

“Yeah...”

 

Louis bounced up on his tiptoes and kissed him. Harry, surprised, didn't respond for a second or so before he wrapped his arms around Louis and tugged him closer. They made out lazily for a while one of Louis' legs wrapped around Harry's waist. Harry giggled and pulled away. “I have to flip the pancakes.”

 

“Can I?” Louis grabs at the handle of the pan greedily. “I just flip it?”

 

“I usually use the spatula to flip it.” 

 

“That's no fun! Come on, Haz. Ready?”

 

Harry steps back, an amused look in his eyes. He spreads his arms in invitation. “Go on then.”

 

Louis flips the pancake. The pancake sails through the air and gracefully lands on the floor. When he looks up from the splattered mess, Harry is suppressing a giggle.

 

“I think I'll leave the cooking to you,” Louis says sheepishly. “I'll go put on the telly.” 

 

Louis flicks distractedly through the channels, his mind full of Harry and how maybe maybe maybe, when this day is done he might have a boyfriend. At the very least a date. Because, Harry likes him, right? 

 

Harry emerges from the kitchen and interrupts his thoughts. He's carrying a plate stacked with pancakes. Louis leaps up and sits at the table. 

 

“Thank you, Harry,” He says happily, “They're amazing!” 

 

Harry sits opposite him and their feet hook together underneath the table. Louis chats about the radio show and how Grimmy popped in for a chat and he was thinking about how maybe he and Nick could have their own segment together. Harry listens and laughs, his eyes fond and making Louis momentarily lost for words when he meets them.

 

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Louis asks finally,  gathering his courage. “You know, this morning.”

 

“Oh.” Harry's face falls a bit, and he bites his lip. Several emotions flash across his face, too fast for Louis to identify. “It's nothing.”

 

“No, come on. I'm curious now.”

 

There's a long pause until Harry says, “We're just friends, right?”

 

Louis' stomach twists. He puts down his fork. His heart is thudding in his ribcage and this is not how this was supposed to go. 

 

“Um.”

 

“Because, I mean. We don't want anything serious, right? We just want to mess around and stuff, yeah?” Harry hurriedly continues and Louis just wants him to shut up, to stop talking because his words hurt so bad. 

 

“Yeah,” Louis echoes faintly.

 

“Nothing serious, right?”

 

Louis' chin tilts up. He can feel his emotional walls stacking themselves back up again. “Nothing serious.” 

 

Louis feels so so stupid. Like Harry could possibly be in love with him. Kind, gorgeous Harry deserved miles better than a B-list radio presenter with a terrible track record. He was working himself up all morning, trying to find a way to tell Louis that he just wanted sex with no strings attached. 

 

Louis should just end it, now. It's recipe for heartache if he agrees to this. But his chest tightens at the thought of not being able to touch Harry anymore. There's so much more he wants to do with him. He wants to keep kissing him.

 

Louis untangles his foot from Harry's. 

 

“Lou–” Harry looks vaguely hurt. 

 

“I got you something,” Louis interrupts quickly. He needs to change the subject now because he can already feel himself shutting down. He fishes the application out of his pocket. 

 

“It's an application form for an internship at Radio 1,” Louis says quietly. “I know you said you'd like to be in radio. You can just throw it away--”

 

“Louis, this is great!” Harry looks touched. “I can't believe you remembered! Of course, I'll apply.” 

 

“I'll put a good word in for you,” Louis says, finishing off his pancake. “Just fill out the application and I'll take it in to Eleanor tomorrow.” 

 

Harry looks endearingly excited and Louis can't bear it. He clears the table and dumps the plates in the sink. He goes to the bathroom for a piss and a quick splash in the face with cold water and when he comes back, Harry is washing his plates.

 

Harry is washing his plates. In his sink. With actual soap. Could he be making this any harder?

 

“I have a dishwasher, you know,” Louis says quietly. 

 

Harry lifts his sudsy hands and blows bubbles and foam at Louis. “It's full.”

 

Louis dips his hands into the sink and grabs a handful of suds. He rubs them into Harry's hair, laughing delightedly as his brown curls become speckled with white.

 

Harry giggled and lunged for him, wrapping his arms around Louis and batting his soapy hands at his face. Louis squirmed, simultaneously trying to get away from Harry and stay nestled in his arms. 

 

Half an hour later, they're sitting on the sofa; Harry's watching Netflix and Louis' watching Harry. They've been eating some blueberries that were in the fridge and the curly haired boy's lips are stained with purplish juice and Louis wants to lick it off them. 

 

They're <em> friends with benefits. </em> It's allowed now. 

 

Louis reaches over and palms his hand over Harry's dick. Harry's head jerks towards him in surprise but he doesn't stop him. He lets out a small whine as Louis palms the growing bulge in his trousers.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Louis asks breathily. 

 

Something flashes across Harry's eyes. They're darkened with lust. “Yeah, kiss me, Louis, please.”

 

So he does. Tongues slide together and hands are tugging at hair and Louis is still palming Harry's dick. Harry's whimpering into Louis' mouth. 

 

“Fuck,” Harry pants. “Can you take your shirt off?” 

 

He doesn't wait for an answer and pulls Louis' shirt over his head. He runs his fingers down Louis' chest, pausing to rub his thumbs over his nipples. Louis whines. 

 

“Wanna go to the bedroom?” He pants.

 

“Ye—” Harry cuts himself off. “No, let's do it here. On the sofa.” 

 

Louis shrugs and starts unbuttoning Harry's jeans. He pulls them off, along with his boxers, and chucks them away. His hand wraps around his friend's mostly hard cock and he slowly pumps it, reattaching his lips to Harry's.

 

“You're so gorgeous,” Harry huffed into his mouth. “God. Will you suck me off?”

 

Louis doesn't answer, but he slides down to his knees in front of Harry and licks his lips. Without warning, he swallows down Harry's cock. 

 

Harry whimpers and his hand tightens itself into Louis' feathery hair. 

 

Louis' given quite a few blowjobs, and his skills are superior to most, which is probably why Harry is moments from coming five minutes into the blowjob and Louis hasn't even pulled out all his best moves yet. 

 

He pulls off and swirls his tongue around the head. With the hand not gripping Harry's thigh, he awkwardly manoeuvres off his boxers and starts pumping at his own cock. 

 

Harry notices. He's gone, but not so far gone that he doesn't feel up to giving Louis pleasure. He reaches the hand not tangled in Louis' hair around to his arse. His fingers slip into the cleft and he runs them up and down, lightly over his hole until Louis is whimpering around his dick. 

 

His finger circles Louis' rim. “Got any lube, babe?” 

 

Louis throws his discarded trousers onto Harry's head. Harry pulls his wallet out of his trousers and opens in. Stuck into it, is that same quote. _But the heart has its own memory and I have forgotten nothing._  He isn't in the right mind to ponder over it, though, so he pulls out the packet of lube stashed away in Louis' wallet.

 

“Do I even need to ask why you carry lube in your wallet?”

 

Louis pulls back and grins. “You never know when some sex deviant will decide to bend me over.” 

 

Harry spreads a coating of liquid over two fingers, reaches around and presses one finger into Louis' arse. 

 

Louis' back arches and he moans around Harry's cock. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “C'mon, finger me.” 

 

He obliges and soon he's roughly pushing his fingers into Louis and Louis has one hand on his cock and another digging his nails into Harry's thigh. His mouth is still on Harry's cock and he hollows his cheeks and sucks harder. With a cry, Harry's fingers still in his arse and he comes, grabbing onto Louis' hair. 

 

Louis waits patiently for Harry to come down from his high, and gently rocks his arse back against his hand. Moments later, the other boy returns somewhat to his senses and moves his fingers. He brushes off Louis' prostrate and Louis whines, tugging faster at his cock. Within a minute, he's coming too and he slumps against Harry, wrecked. 

 

Harry gently pushes him off and lays him down on the sofa where he curls into a little ball. Louis hears his footsteps pad away. He returns moments later with a cool facecloth. He washes Louis off with it, drapes a blanket over him and gets dressed quietly. 

 

Louis wants to ask Harry to stay and cuddle him, but his limbs feel like lead and he can't drag the words from his throat. The door clicks shut as Harry leaves his flat. Soon after, he's fast asleep. 

 

\---

 

“I mean,” Perrie says, “I can't believe he would do that. Friends with benefits? I'm just. Bewildered.”

 

“Pez, I told you. I'm over it.”

 

“But this is so unfair to you!” Perrie whines. They're having lunch in a tapas restaurant and Louis has just finished reliving the morning he's just had. “How can you possibly get over him if you're sleeping together? So long as this ridiculous fucking around is going on, you'll be a pining misery.”

 

“Perrie, I am not as pathetic as you're making me out to be,” Louis insists, and really. He's not. He isn't in love with Harry and he gets to sleep with a guy he's attracted to. It's great. It's really...great. Really. Maybe. “Besides, haven't you more important things to be worrying about except for me? Like your wedding?”

 

“Leigh-Anne is out collecting the bridesmaid dresses. I'm going to rendez-vous with her later and see them. They're gorgeous dresses, Louis, you'll look fabulous in pastel.” 

 

Louis chuckles as Perrie flips through her phone's photo gallery and shows him a picture of the dresses. “Are you sure it'll go with my complexion?”

 

“You'll be prettier than me.”

 

“I thought that wasn't allowed.” 

 

“I'll make an exception for you.” She winks and sips her wine. 

 

“Where's Zayn today, anyway?” Louis asks. He hasn't seen his friend as much as he used to, and he's trying to chalk it up to being busy with the wedding, except Perrie says he never seems to be involved in the planning.

 

“Oh, he's with your Liam Payne again. The two of them have become thick as thieves. It's really quite sweet.”

 

Louis frowns, but whatever he was going to say is interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He goes to decline it, but Perrie slaps his hand.

 

“Oh, answer it, honey. I don't mind, honestly. Is it him?”

 

Louis smiles and brings the phone to his ear. “Hi, Harry.”

 

“Louis!” He sounds so happy and normal that Louis almost forgets that their entire relationship has changed since last night. “Are you busy? I need your fashion advice.”

 

“I'm at lunch with Perrie, but what do you need?”

 

“Do you think for me, would a black or navy tuxedo be better?” He sounds so concerned, Louis laughs out loud. His voice is fond and affectionate when he replies. 

 

“I don't know, James Bond. You'll have to send me pics. A naked one too, so I can compare with your complexion accurately.” 

 

Harry giggles and Perrie chokes on her wine.  

 

“Be serious, Lou! It's for Gemma's wedding.”

 

“You'll look lovely in whatever you wear,” Louis says, and he hates how true that is. 

 

“You charmer. C'mon, please. Help me.”

 

“Hang on, I have just the person to ask.” Louis presses the phone into his collarbone. He looks at his lunch companion. “Perrie, love. Navy or black tuxedo for Harry?”

 

Without being fazed, Perrie asks, “What colour are the bridesmaids’ dresses?” and wraps noodles around the prongs of her fork.

 

Louis repeats the question to Harry. To Perrie, he says, “He says baby blue.” 

 

“Navy, definitely.”

 

“Navy, definitely,” Louis tells Harry.

 

Some rustling. Harry's voice appears distorted, as if he's talking while on the move. “You're a life saver. Thanks, Lou. Say thanks to Perrie.” 

 

Louis gives her a thumbs up. “Send those pics!” He manages to get in, before Harry hangs up with a laugh. 

 

When he returns to his meal, Perrie looks most disgruntled. “Friends with benefits my left arse cheek,” She mutters, and aggressively shoves a forkful of chicken into her mouth. 

 

\---

 

“Gemma's wedding is soon, yeah?” Louis asks Harry one night, after they've exchanged blowjobs and made out until their lips were swollen.

 

“In November,” Harry says. “She wanted to have it in the Christmas month but the hotel was all booked out.”

 

“No church?” 

 

“They're not very religious.” 

 

“What's the fiancé's name again? Thomas?”

 

Harry snorts. “Close, James. The wedding's in this fancy hotel in Manchester.” 

 

“Do you have a picture of this James fellow?” 

 

Harry fumbles for the bedside table (they fooled around in his flat this time, as Niall was having a guy's night out) and produced his phone. He pulls up a photo of Gemma and James on the day of their engagement. Gemma is glowing and flaunting her ring in a not-so-subtle manner at the camera and James is grinning bashfully, his arm around his fiancée's waist.

 

“He's hot,” Louis remarks. “Good thing Gemma snagged him up or I'd have locked him down.”

 

Harry growls playfully and throws his body over Louis', nipping at his neck. “No you wouldn't have,” He says, sucking at the skin underneath Louis' ear. “You have me.”

 

  
_No, I don't,_ Louis thinks with a pang. But he lets Harry suck a love bite onto his neck and then he gives him a matching one beside his nipple.

 

\---

 

**[Harry]**

 

When he wakes up the next morning, Louis is long gone. He's left a Post-It stuck to his fridge which has an artfully drawn dick on it. Harry smiles, takes out some orange juice and  turns on the radio.

 

Louis is talking about a new track by James Bay. Actually, more like gushing. He leaves the radio on while he jogs downstairs to collect the post from their slot in the postbox. 

 

Niall is still sleeping soundly in his room. He got home at three am last night. His drunk, clumsy fumbling woke Harry but thankfully it didn't disturb Louis. 

 

Harry sorts their post into three categories; Harry, Niall and Bills. He leaves an Amazon package addressed to Niall on the counter and then remembers his duty as roommate to leave a paracetamol and a glass of water in Niall's room. 

 

When he's done that, he goes back to sorting out their post, whilst humming along to the radio. He comes across a fancy envelope addressed to him. It's cream coloured and beautiful quality paper and the address is written in calligraphy. He can't think what it could be and he carefully opens it. 

 

The inside is a folded piece of cars, rose gold with a crimson border. 

 

_Gemma Styles and James Wainwright invite Harry Styles and a Guest to attend their wedding._

 

Oh yeah, he forgot the wedding invitations were being sent out today. Gemma mentioned it to him over Skype. He pins the invitation to the fridge. 

 

Niall comes stumbling out the bedroom half an hour later. He doesn't say much, just gratefully accepts the bowl of cereal and munches in silence. 

 

Niall doesn't get proper hangovers, he gets a mild headache in the morning. After breakfast, he's usually over it and the case is no different today.

 

“You've got an Amazon package,” Harry says, nodding at the box on the counter. 

 

“Oh, sick! My new guitar picks. I ordered them a few days ago.” 

 

“That's a pretty big box for a few guitar picks.”

 

“I also ordered a boxset of Prison Break. Movie night tonight?” 

 

 Niall leafs through his pile of post. There's an envelope identical to Harry's at the very bottom, underneath all the junk mail crap that Harry has so generously donated to Niall's pile of post. 

 

“ _Gemma Styles and James Wainwright invite Niall Horan and a Guest to attend their wedding.”_ Niall reads from his invitation. “Sick. I get to bring a guest. Can I bring Ed?” 

 

“Bring whoever you like.”

 

“Who are you bringing?” Niall uses a magnet they bought in Barcelona last year to pin his invitation on the fridge below Harry's.

 

Harry hadn't thought about this. Who  _was_  he going to bring? Most of his friends were already invited. Maybe he could bring Eleanor? 

 

“You should take Louis,” Niall says casually. Harry spins around to look at him.

 

“It's too soon,” He says pathetically, though he'd like nothing more than to show up at Gemma's wedding with the radio presenter on his arm. The words ‘ _he's way out of your league’_ ring in his ears. 

 

“You two are shagging. Besides, it's never too soon to invite someone to a place with free food and booze.” 

 

Harry's not sure this is the best way to sell it, but he sees Niall's point. He's spent nearly every day with Louis since they met. They laugh together and sleep together and have fun together. He's certain Louis would be the fun drunk at a wedding, the person who stars in all the funny wedding stories that they'll look back on in the future.

 

“Okay,” Harry says with a determined nod, “Okay. I'll ask Louis.”

 

\---

 

“Good morning Eleanor!”

 

Eleanor looks up. Behind the reception desk, she's sorting through an enormous amount of official looking pages. She beams when she sees Harry.

 

“Well if it isn't Louis’ Harry!” Harry blushes. “The very person I wanted to see, actually. Your application for the internship. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I just got the files from the boss this morning. I'm supposed to send out emails to the applicants they're interesting in interviewing. Harry, expect an email.”

 

Harry does a double take. “Seriously? They want to interview me?”

 

“They were quite selective, I believe. So congratulations! I know Louis will be pleased.” 

 

Harry grins. “I'm on my way up to see him now.”

 

Eleanor glances at the cheap watch on her wrist. “You're in luck. He's just finished his shift. He should still be up there.”

 

Harry rushes up to Louis' booth. He knows the way by heart now, with how many times he's visited. Louis is laughing with Liam, swinging him around on his revolving chair so fast Liam looks more than slightly nauseous.

 

“Louis, you dickhead, stop!” Liam yells, aiming to punch Louis’ groin but spinning too fast to do so.

 

“You love it, Payno, don't pretend you don't!”

 

Louis suddenly stops spinning the chair, and Liam falls right out of it. He lands on his bum on the floor. Louis cackles loudly, his head thrown back.  _His laugh is so pretty_ , Harry thinks. 

 

“Hazza!” Louis bounds over to him and gives him a hug. He looks like he's about to say something when Liam's phone rings. 

 

“Hey, Zayn!” Liam says animatedly into the phone. 

 

Harry exchanges a look with Louis. “They talk?” He mouths.

 

The feathery haired boy shrugs. “They hit it off when I introduced them. They're like, attached at the hip now.” 

 

Harry nudges his hip into Louis’. “Like us?”

 

Louis bites his lip. He'd meant that as a joke, but Louis' head kind of falls into his chest. “Yeah, like us.” He perches his bum on the windowsill. “What brings you here?” 

 

Harry takes a deep breath and shoves his invitation into Louis' hands. Frowning, he watches as the boy takes the piece of card out of the already-opened envelope.

 

“Gemma Styles and James Wainwright invite Harry Styles and a Guest to--ah, is this your sister's wedding invite? Classy, I like it. Very posh. Even the paper feels high quality.” 

 

Louis pretends to lick up the sides. Harry giggles. 

 

“It says Harry Styles and a guest.” He says. Louis nods. 

 

“Very generous of them. How many people are they expecting? Perrie and Zayn invited practically a small city. How many people were invited again?”

 

“125,” Liam says helpfully. 

 

“Did Zayn say that?”

 

“Yeah.” Liam blushes. Harry doesn't have the mental coherence to allow his brain to linger over it, because he's too busy figuring out what to say.

 

He doesn't answer Louis’ question. “Harry Styles and a guest,” He repeats, like a broken record. Louis nods slowly.

 

“Yeah. That's what it says.”

 

“I want you to be my guest, Louis.” 

 

Louis stands up abruptly. “To the wedding?”

 

Harry nods numbly. Shit, what if he gets shot down? What if Louis laughs at him? He reminds himself that that's ridiculous, because he knows, he  _knows,_ Louis would never laugh at him. Not spitefully.

 

“I--are you sure?” 

 

Harry nods again. 

 

Louis' face breaks out into a smile. He takes hold of Harry's wrists. “Like, your plus one?”

 

Harry lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. Because, technically Louis is saying yes. 

 

“Yeah, like my arm candy. I get to show up with a fit Radio 1 presenter. You get free booze. Everybody wins.”

 

Louis inches closer. Their noses are almost touching. He can feel Louis' breath on his face. It smells like a caramel frapp. 

 

“Do we get our own hotel room?” 

 

“I think so,” Harry murmurs. 

 

“Do I get to see plenty of naked Harry?”

 

He laughs breathily. “Of course you do.” His hands slide down to Louis' arse and squeeze. “If you return the favour.”

 

“Then sure,” Louis says and presses his mouth against Harry's. “Why not?” 

 

They jump apart at the sound of Liam's cough. He looks mostly amused though, and his phone is still pressed to his ear.

 

“I think Harry just invited Louis to his sister's wedding,” Liam tells the phone. 

 

Frantic babbling on the other side of the line. 

 

Liam giggles and holds out the phone. “He wants to speak to you, Lou.” 

 

Louis takes it. “Zayn. No. Yes! What? What the fuck, no, I told you! Have you been speaking to Perrie? Yes, I know she's your fiancée, but--would you shut up? I hate you.” He leaves the room, bickering and talking in a speed that seems inhuman. He squeezes Harry's hand as he goes. 

 

Harry sinks into the revolving chair, sharing a breathy laugh with Liam, who goes back to fiddling with the sound panel. His face is still kind of red, and Harry supposes he has a crush on Zayn. I mean, the guy is practically a Greek god. 

 

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Niall.

 

_Did it! He said yes. x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed :) My tumblr is [summeroftomlinson](http://summeroftomlinson.tumblr.com/)


	6. VI.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry buy a suit. Harry does his interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry it's been a while since I've updated. I was completely lost for inspiration but it's slowly coming back and I'm going to try to do a mass update in the next few weeks. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

  1. **[Louis]**



 

“Louis, babe,” Zayn barges into his flat. It's noon, and Louis is at home killing time before he has to meet up with Eleanor. The first of the internship interviews are starting today and he's weaselled his way into being present for them. Of course, he has little to no say in who gets chosen but he'd like to see what Harry's up against. 

 

“Hey, babe,” Louis gets up off the sofa, not bothering to pause Netflix. “Feels like I haven't seen you in forever.” 

 

“Sorry, Lou.” Zayn looks genuinely apologetic. “But I came over here to remedy that! Liam and I are going to lunch. Do you wanna come?”

 

“Where's Perrie?”

 

“She's off with the bridesmaids doing something or other.” 

 

“Can I bring friends?”

 

“You mean can you bring Harry?” Zayn smirks, crossing his arms. “Yes, of course you can. Text him. Do you mind if I have a shower? I stink.”

 

“You really do.” 

 

Zayn strips off his shirt and wanders towards the bathroom. Louis hears the shower being turned on and a millisecond later, a yelp. 

 

“Oh yeah, sorry! Hot water's not turned on. Forgot to mention.”

 

Some colourful swearing. Louis chuckles and sends a quick text to Harry. 

 

_Hey, fancy coming to lunch with Zayn and Liam and me? Blowjobs not included, but if you're extra nice to me maybe later! ;) X_

 

Harry replies with a blue heart emoji. Then the emoji blowing a kiss. Then a thumbs up. He's still typing, though, so Louis pushes open the door to the bathroom and sits down on the closed toilet seat lid. The shower is running loudly so he can barely hear Zayn when he speaks. 

 

“Can you pass me the shampoo?” Zayn says from behind the shower curtain. 

 

Louis hands him his apple shampoo. “Don't use too much. I need to pick up some more.” 

 

His phone buzzes with a text from Harry.  _I'm actually hanging out with Niall, can I bring him?_

 

_The more the merrier,_ Louis texts back. 

 

“Harry and Niall are coming,” he tells Zayn, raising his voice to be heard over the running water. 

 

“Can't believe he asked you to his sister's wedding,” Zayn says. “That's a big move even for real couples.”

 

Louis shrugs and tries not to dwell too much on this particular thought. It was Harry wanted to be friends with benefits, so he makes up the rules. 

 

“That’s just Harry. He’s really honest and open about what he wants. He asked me to come clubbing with him only a day after I’d met him. And I got a few days off work, which is sick. Nick's covering me shift. Hey, do you want conditioner?” He passes Zayn the bottle. 

 

“So like, you're gonna meet his family and shit? That's gotta be pretty nerve wracking.” 

 

Louis has practiced what to say to Anne, Harry's mother. In the mirror. Like a pathetic high school kid. It was like flushing his dignity down the toilet. 

 

“I reckon it'll be all right,” He says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “They seem lovely.”

 

Louis' actually nervous as fuck. He doesn't know why it's so important to him, but he wants Harry's parents to like him. He wants them to think, yeah, Harry invited a good one to his sister's wedding. That Louis Tomlinson is just as funny as he is on the radio. He just wants to make a good impression. 

 

He changes the subject quickly. “So, you and Liam are quite good friends now?”

 

A moment's pause. “Yeah, why?”

 

“Nothing. It's kinda cute. Is he invited to your wedding?” 

 

Zayn pulls the curtain back and reaches for a towel to wrap around his waist. “Perrie hasn't sent invites yet, but yeah, he's on the list.”

 

“I'm a really shitty best man. Is there anything you want me to do?” 

 

Zayn shakes his head. “You're keeping me sane, man. That's basically it. Well, you need to throw me a bachelor party but that's well in your league.” 

 

“Fuck, yeah!” Louis exclaims, standing up and following Zayn out of the bathroom. “I'll throw a legendary stag do. People will be talking about it for years. They'll call it The Louis. Years from now, they'll be like, ‘ _Hey dude, anything in mind for your bachelor party?’ ‘Yeah, I want it to be like The Louis.’”_

 

Zayn laughs. “You loser.” 

 

Louis sees his friend looking at the framed quote on his wall. He adjusts it; it's hanging a little crooked. “ _But the heart has its own memory & I have forgotten nothing.” _

 

_“_ Have you told Harry?” Zayn asks quietly. “About...?” 

 

Louis shakes his head. “I can't, Zayn. It's too embarrassing.” 

 

The dark haired boy looks outraged. “Louis! It's not--”

 

“Besides,” Louis interrupted, “it's not relevant. He's just my friend with benefits. It's not important.” 

 

Zayn seems to sense that Louis has closed the conversation and locked it with a key. He sighs. “Okay, babe. It's your choice. Can I borrow a shirt?”

 

\---

 

When they arrive at the restaurant, Liam, Harry and Niall have already seated themselves. Harry looks up and waves. 

 

“Hey,” Louis said, sliding into the booth beside Harry. “I took off from work for Gemma's wedding. I'm officially yours for a whole five days.” 

 

“Yay,” Harry said, smiling, “Gemma and Mum are so excited to meet you.” 

 

“Niall, who are you bringing?” Liam asks, raising one hand to call over the waiter. 

 

“Me mate Ed.”

 

“Red hair?” Louis asks.

 

“That's him.”

 

“I've seen him a few times while I was hanging out with Harry. I—would you look at these two.” Louis pointed at Liam and Zayn, who had their heads pressed together, giggling at something on Liam's phone. 

 

“They're thick as thieves,” Niall said, “I've not seen them apart since they met.”

 

The waiter approached, pen and paper at the ready. “Gentlemen, are you ready for drinks?”

 

Louis ordered a beer and when the waiter went to fetch it, he dashed off to the toilet for a piss. When he came back, he was shaking water off his hands and splashing droplets onto his jeans.

 

“The bloody hand dryer was broken and would you believe there was no toilet paper left—oi oi! I've not ordered yet!” 

 

The waiter was just removing all the menus from the table. He shot Louis a patient smile. “This young man ordered for you, sir.”

 

Louis glanced down at Harry and climbed back into the booth. “You did?”

 

“Chicken burger and spicy chips with a Caesar salad on the side. Yeah?” 

 

Louis lights up with surprise. “How'd you know that, love?”

 

“We went here together a few times, that's what you ordered.” 

 

“You remembered?” 

 

He's so overwhelmed with affection that he leans over and kisses Harry's cheek. He whispers in his ear, “You've definitely earned my mouth on you, H. Everywhere.” 

 

Harry visibly shivers. “Tonight?”

 

“Sure.” He leans back and takes a long sip from his beer. 

 

The five of them chat about the wedding and Harry's internship interview tomorrow. When their food comes over, the waiter sets it down in front of them. Niall gets up to go to the bathroom. Liam and Zayn are still pressed closely together, laughing about a Facebook post. 

 

“Lads!” Louis coughed, and nodded to the plates of food the waiter was trying to put down.

 

“It's all right. You two make a lovely couple.”

 

Liam and Zayn jumped apart as if they'd been electrocuted.

 

“We're not together!” Liam said hurriedly. “He's married! Not married. Engaged. You know how it is.”

 

Zayn sheepishly waggled his left hand, his engagement ring glinting. The waiter turned a bright red, “I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have assumed! Oh God, did I really just say that?” He gestured at Louis and Harry. “I just assumed it was a double date!”

 

This time Harry blushed and opened his mouth, but Louis slung an arm around his shoulders. “It's an honest mistake, happens all the time.” 

 

The waiter hurries off, flustered. Harry turns to Louis, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why didn't you correct him?” 

 

“He was already embarrassed, poor chap. It would've been a double whammy.” 

 

“Oh, right.” Harry ducks his head, looking a little disappointed. Was he really that upset to be seen as Louis' boyfriend? 

 

“If it bothers you, I can correct him,” Louis mumbles. Harry's head shoots up and he shakes it vigorously.

 

“No, Lou! I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry.”

 

“Let's just enjoy our meal,” Niall says loudly, having returned from the toilet, tucking into his dish and stealing a few chips off Louis. 

 

\---

 

Louis arrives at the BBC studio with refreshments for the team. The interviews for the internships are well on their way. Louis sits at the back behind a crowd. It's a rather informal interview. There's a chair for the candidate and several crew members and the station manager are gathered around, questioning them. 

 

He takes a seat beside Eleanor, who is taking notes. “How's it going?” 

 

“They're really keen on this girl up for an internship. She's really cool, she just wants to intern to see what radio life is like. She just wants a job with the BBC and she doesn't care what it is. Seems up for anything. And she's so sweet. There she is.” Eleanor points out a small girl with reddish brown hair and a jawline to die for.

 

“What's her name?”

 

She leafs through her notes. “Barbara Palvin. I'm also certain she's going to get a place. They were crazy about her.”

 

“Harry's going tomorrow,” Louis says unnecessarily. He's been reminding Eleanor for days. “Who's in charge of this? I want to put a good word in.”

 

“That guy, John Salisbury. He's Executive Something, I don't know. He gets the final say in who gets chosen.” 

 

“Right.” Louis stands up and brushes off his jeans. He hands Eleanor his coffee cup to hold. “Let me just turn on the Tommo charm.”

 

He strides over to John Salisbury and taps his shoulder. When he turns around, Louis flashes him a friendly grin.

 

“Louis Tomlinson. I don't believe we've met?”

 

“No, but I have heard of you, Mr Tomlinson,” Salisbury says, shaking Louis' hand. He has a friendly, open vibe radiating off him. Louis likes him. “Nobody at BBC has anything but great things to say about you.” 

 

“They just say that because I buy them coffee and deep fried things.”

 

Salisbury lets out a hearty chuckle. “Have you been watching the interviews? So many great candidates, I won't know how to choose!”

 

“It does seem like a difficult job, all right. In fact,” Louis sees his window and leaps for it, “Tomorrow, you'll met a guy called Harry Styles. Great guy, I've uh, I've met him in passing. I'd just like to let you know that he has my seal of approval. He would be a great intern.”

 

“Thanks, Tomlinson. I'll keep that in mind. I'd love to chat more, however—”

 

“Say no more. I'll let you get back to it. Pleasure meeting you, Mr Salisbury.” 

 

Eleanor scoffs when he returns to her. “Boy, do you know how to make a good impression.”

 

“It's my sparkling wit,” Louis says, pretending to flip his hair. “The boys love it.”

 

“I think the boys prefer an asset of yours that's a little further south, lovey.”

 

“Cheeky,” Louis remarks. “How dare you.”

 

She giggles.

 

\---

 

“I can't believe it. You're one of the most famous radio presenters in the UK and you don't own a suitable suit for the wedding.”

 

“I rent suits,” Louis says, climbing into Harry's car. “It's too early in the morning to take this kind of abuse. And I did have a suit. But Zayn borrowed it, lost it and I never saw it again.” 

 

“How do you lose a suit?” Harry has a knack for talking while driving. Louis never could do it without being on edge. 

 

“He didn't actually lose it. He had sex in it with Perrie and no amount of dry cleans is going to make me take it back.”

 

Harry laughs. He reaches into the backseat with one hand and passes Louis a paper bag.

 

“I stopped by the bakery and picked up a chocolate chip muffin for you.”

 

Louis nearly cries. He adores this boy. “Thank you, thank you.” 

 

Harry turns his way and grins. “Do I get a thank you blowjob later?” 

 

Louis takes a bite of the muffin and smiles around it. “You get more than that,” He says with his mouth full. “You can fuck me.” 

 

Harry nearly crashes the car. 

 

He slams on the brakes and Louis is thrown forward in the seat. He hadn't been wearing a belt and he thinks he's going to go through the windshield when Harry throws an arm out in front of him, pinning him back to the seat. Harry, shaken, pulls over in the first free space he sees. 

 

“Holy shit,” he says. “I just nearly killed us.” Then he turns to Louis. “Jesus! It's your fault!”

 

“How?!” Louis exclaims, outraged.

 

“You can't just  _say_  something like that and expect it to be okay!” Harry fumes. “I thought I was going to combust!”

 

“You don't have to fuck me if you don't want to,” Louis says, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“No, I want to fuck you, of course I do.” Harry squeezes his thigh. “But don't say sexy things like that when I'm driving.”

 

“ _Sexy things,_ ” Louis giggles. “Are you serious?”

 

Harry scowls and starts the car up again.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Can I help you?” The sales assistant greets them at the door. At Harry's suggestion, they were at an Armani shop to buy a suit for Gemma's wedding.

 

“Yes, we're looking for a suit for this young gentleman.” Harry puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder. 

 

“Of course, do you have a preference?”

 

Louis listens while Harry tells the assistant exactly what they needed. They were taken to an area of the shop with sleek navy suits. Harry was in his element. He pointed out different designs and the assistant brought out at least five different suits in his size. 

 

“Thank you, I think I can manage from here,” Harry smiles. The assistant nods and walks off.

 

“Put this on.” Harry thrusts a suit into his chest. 

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Louis changes quickly. They're in a back corner of the shop so it's unlikely that someone will walk in on them. And it's nothing that Harry hasn't seen before, anyway.

 

He strikes a pose with the full suit on. Harry laughs. “Gorgeous. But a little too bright, maybe? Try this one.”

 

They laugh their way through the different suits. At one point Louis ends up with his back against the mirror while Harry showers him in kisses, telling him how good he looks. 

 

“So which one?” Louis asks, breathlessly. He's in his final suit, a stripy one with well fitting trousers. 

 

“I liked this one.”

 

Harry holds up a plain dark blue number, with form fitting trousers and a jacket that shows off his collar bones. 

 

“Your arse is fantastic in this one,” Harry tells him. “Please get this one.”

 

“Well, you're the expert.”

 

They buy the blue suit. It costs a little more than Louis would normally spend on, well, anything. But it's worth it because Harry is beaming. 

 

“You're gonna look so great at the wedding,” Harry says, as they climb back into the car.

 

“What are you wearing?” Louis asks.

 

Harry just grins. “It's a surprise.” 

 

 

\---

 

**[Harry]**

 

The next day, Harry wakes up in sweats. He'd just had a dream about going to the internship interview and forgetting his trousers. 

 

He goes through his usual morning routine with butterflies in his stomach. He  _wants_  the internship. Louis was right, he did love doing radio in university. He's old enough now that he deserves a proper job, not just scooping ice cream. And plus, he'd be working with Louis. An hour later, Niall eventually stumbles out of bed. 

 

“Oh hey, isn't your interview thing today?” 

 

Harry looks up from his smoothie. “Yes.”

 

“You'll smash it, bro,” Niall says, turning down the radio and yawning his way over to the kitchen. “We're out of Cheerio's.”

 

“I'll pick some up after.”

 

“What time is the interview?”

 

“Nine o'clock.” Louis wouldn't even be finished his shift at that time. “I should go shower. There's leftover pizza in the fridge.”

 

“Sick!” Niall lights up, despite the fact that it's seven o'clock in the morning and pizza is not usually a breakfast food. 

 

Harry showers, texts Louis, picks an outfit (tight black jeans, a black shirt with flamingoes and a floral headscarf) and heads down to the radio station. 

 

Buzzing with nerves, he greets Eleanor at reception. She directs him down to a room on the third floor and wishes him luck. He considers popping in Louis' cubicle, but he's running over some opening lines and jokes in his head and he doesn't want to distract himself. And he knows he will be distracted if he sees Louis. 

 

He finds himself in some sort of waiting room with other hopeful interviewees. One by one, they're called into another room where Harry assumes the interview takes place. He chats to the girl beside him but she seems too nervous to hold a conversation. 

 

A woman enters the room. “Do we have a Harry Styles here?” Harry stands up abruptly. She guides him to the interview room, wishes him luck and lets him in. 

 

A man with a friendly face greets him. There are several other people present but he's the one Harry notices. “Hello! I'm John Salisbury. You are?”

 

“Harry Styles, sir.” 

 

John Salisbury brightens up. “Ah! Louis Tomlinson spoke highly of you.”

 

Harry flushes. “That's just because I buy him coffee and stuff.”

 

John Salisbury roars with laughter, which is a little alarming. “That's exactly what he said!”

 

Harry sits down in the chair across from John and the others. “Now, Harry. It says on your application that you're interested in radio hosting?”

 

“Yes, but I'd be happy with any sort of internship. I just want the experience.”

 

“That's the attitude I like,” John says. “Have you any experience at all?” 

 

“Yes, I was the radio host on my university's radio programme.”

 

“Where did you go to university?”

 

“Manchester, sir.”

 

John's smile could nearly crack his face open. “That's where I went! I listen to that radio station occasionally.” 

 

Harry allows himself a smile. This is going well. 

 

“I must say,” says one of the other interviewers. “He's got a lovely radio voice.” 

 

“And lovely hair,” another remarks.

 

“Thanks,” Harry says, “I grew it myself.”

 

The woman barks a laugh. 

 

“And I love that headscarf,” She continues. 

 

“It keeps my ears warm,” Harry tells her. She smiles. 

 

John Salisbury winks at him.

 

\---

 

Louis bursts into the interview room just as Harry's getting up and thanking them for their time. He looks elated when he sees Harry still there.

 

“I was hoping to catch you!” He tugs Harry into the hallway, beaming. “How'd it go?”

 

Harry laughs loudly. “Really well! I'm so happy, Louis! I think I might have got it!”

 

If Harry's happy, it's nothing compared to Louis. Louis throws his arms around Harry and kisses him.

 

“I'm so happy for you!” He giggles between kisses. “I knew you'd smash it.” 

 

Harry's trousers are starting to get a little tight. “Remember when you said I could fuck you?” He breathes in Louis' ear.

 

Louis kisses down his neck. “Let's go to my place.” 

 

Harry couldn't get them out of there fast enough. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :) my tumblr is [summeroftomlinson](http://summeroftomlinson.tumblr.com/)


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